The First Time
by Miss Cordy
Summary: A look at some of the firsts in Tina and Artie's friendship/relationship. Starts out pre-series and is AU as of "Wheels". Artie/Tina, hints of pre-series Artie/Quinn.
1. Prologue Before

It'd been almost two years since the accident, and his mom was insisting that it was time for things to get back to normal. He'd missed most of his last semester during the 8th grade, between hospital stays, rehabilitation and physical therapy. He'd had to get a tutor and work extra hard over the summer, so that he'd have any hope of going to high school with his friends and classmates. And he had.

It's the end of his freshmen year and his mother has planned a "big party" for his 15th birthday. She'd said it was like his "coming out," and she was so excited that he didn't have the heart to tell her that those were usually for girls. He'd told her he wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea. After all, things hadn't been the same since he came back to school. He wasn't even sure he had enough friends to justify a party.

He'd taken to referring to the time when he wasn't in the wheel chair as just "Before." Before the accident. Before the chair. Before he was a social outcast. Just Before. Before, he'd been fairly likeable. Not really popular by any means, but maybe slightly above average as far as school hierarchies went. He was funny, was the thing. He was good with one-liners and he could make people laugh. They liked to be around him. He had one of those infectious personalities, he supposed.

So, while he didn't hang out with them much on weekends or anything, when the cool kids had parties, he got invited. And he had a good time. If things had been the same as Before, he'd probably be dating a cheerleader, or it would at least be in the realm of possibility. He didn't think he was being presumptuous or big-headed by assuming that. That's just where his life was headed.

But it wasn't Before, and the cheerleaders didn't notice the regular people, let alone Wheelchair Kid. You could say that he was below their radar.

So, when his mom hands him a stack of invitations for his big party, he smiles blandly at her and nods his head, before proceeding to throw them in the trash. He can count the number of people that he would invite to this thing on one hand, and he doesn't need invitations for that.

When the big day arrives, Tina's there, of course. She scolds him for not telling her himself. Him mother (traitor) had called her, asked her to help spread the word. Luckily, Tina knew him better than his mother, at least since After. So, she'd only brought Mercedes, a girl she knew from show choir.

Mercedes was nice enough, if very loud. A sharp contrast to Tina, who didn't say too much in the first place, and when she did, she said it quietly. He's always figured it had to do with her stutter, something she says she's struggled with for as long as she can remember. Though, in the year that he's known her, he likes to think that not only does she talk a bit more, but she also stutters less. At least around him anyway.

It's just the three of them for a while, and he can see his mother stressing behind her finely-honed fake smile. Even though he really couldn't have cared less about this whole thing, he knew she really wanted this for him. And he suddenly feels guilty for not mentioning it to more people.

Luckily, the people he did mention it to (a couple guys from Jazz Band – Johnny, Nick and Brad) did show up. And it was only really awkward for a few minutes before Tina, his awesome Tina, suggested they play some Rock Band. Needless to say, that kept them occupied for a good bit of time and he had to admit that he was happy (for his mother, but also for himself) and that he was actually having a pretty good time.

Only, apparently, Tina hadn't been the only person his mother had called. Because right in the middle of a particularly difficult guitar solo, Quinn Fabray walks through the door.

She stands there awkwardly, watching them all stare at her dumbly, until his mother swoops in and scoops her up in a big hug, gushing about just *how long* it's been since she's seen her. Quinn smiles tightly and he tries not to scowl or point out that *obviously*, there's a reason for her absence.

He can feel Tina's eyes on him, and he's dreading that particular conversation, but he nods in Quinn's general direction, says, "Hey." He may be a lot of things, especially since Before, but rude is not one of them, particularly in front of his mother, at the party she threw for him. So, he decides to play nice.

The Quinn Story is something Tina's been trying to get out of him almost since the first day they met, on the first day of 9th grade. He was still uncomfortable with the chair, so he'd already made a spectacle of himself, between dropping his books and running into things, or forgetting that his wheels were locked. His mother had offered to hire someone to assist him, but that thought was simply to horrifying to even consider.

So, he'd rolled himself into the cafeteria, looking for some familiar faces. Only, the faces he saw weren't looking at him. Like, not just not seeing him, but actively avoiding looking at him. He remembers feeling something in his chest tighten as he passes table after table and no one will meet his eyes. And when they do, it's to smile sadly at him, pitying him. He can't really blame them, he supposes. He wouldn't really know what to say either. "I'm sorry" sounds too trivial, somehow, but it's not like they can act like nothing's changed. The big, clunky wheelchair kind of makes that impossible.

He sits there, tray of food resting in his lap, as he starts to feel the familiar sting in his eyes. Oh, *that* would make this situation better. He's about to turn around and roll right back out when he hears a small voice speak up from behind him.

"Y-y-you can sit here?" She says it like a question and he turns around to look at the girl, her black hair hanging in her face, eyeliner accentuating her eyes. Her cheeks are slightly pink and she looks like she's trying to hide behind the curtain of hair. When he doesn't immediately say anything, she drops her eyes to the table.

"I-I-I mean, if you w-w-want." She peeks up at him again, looks scared of what he'll say.

"You don't mind?" he asks her, and she shakes her head quickly.

"N-n-no." She looks around and shrugs. "No one else w-w-wants to." He looks around, too, and nods, wheels himself up next to her as she shoves a chair away from the table.

"I'm Artie," he tells her, holds out a gloved hand. She smiles, and it's the prettiest smile he's seen in a while. She takes his hand firmly, holds onto it a little longer than necessary.

"I'm T-T-Tina."

They'd been pretty much inseparable ever since, each other's only friend really. They had some other acquaintances, of course – classmates, or Jazz Band, or show choir. But she was the only one he'd really considered his friend since he returned to school. All of his other *friends* from Before had all eventually decided it was too hard to be the Wheelchair Kid's friend. They tried to talk to him at the beginning, but being seen with Wheelchair Kid pretty much became as much of a social suicide as being seen with that show choir freak, Rachel What's-Her-Face. He's sure it would have bothered him more if he didn't have Tina by his side, but since he did, he honestly didn't think about it much. With her there every day, pushing him around, everything just seemed sort of easier.

So, understandably, she's not that happy with him when he brushes off the Quinn thing. He hadn't really seen her the first few days, but eventually, she'd approached him, wearing her brand new JV cheerleading uniform. She looked … different, to say the least.

The last time he'd seen her had been while he was still in the hospital. Her mother had brought her to visit and she'd been quiet, not looking at him. He knew she blamed herself for what happened – the accident. No matter what anyone told her, she refused to believe otherwise.

Quinn Fabray was his neighbor. She lived across the street, a couple houses down, and they'd been friends since elementary school, when their mothers had forced them to play together after school. Her parents were out a lot, either working or attending parties or church functions or whatever rich people did with their time, so she was at his house a lot. Sometimes, she even spent the night (though once they hit middle school, his mother made her sleep on the couch instead of with him). She was a tomboy back then, rolling around in the mud and climbing trees with him and the rest of the boys. The other girls made fun of her sometimes, because she was a little chubby thing, with round cheeks that, with her golden hair, he thought made her look like an angel. He never hesitated to tell her she was beautiful, and she would blush and shove him, tell him to stop trying to make her feel better. His mother would tell her she'd grow out of her baby fat soon, and he noticed that Quinn liked to hug his mom a lot. Like, more than he did. He supposed it was because her own mother wasn't much of a hugger.

The day that Before became After, they were climbing the giant tree in his backyard. The older they got, the higher they could go, and his dad had even attached some steps and platforms, to make their climbing easier (and safer). They were almost at the top, his mother eyeing them from the kitchen window. He knew it made her nervous to see them so high, but his dad was always reminding her that kids climb trees all the time. Kids would play and get in trouble, and they had to let them. He always thought his dad was a really smart guy.

They were sitting together on one of the platforms (the highest), talking about nothing and everything. Her hair was down that day – he remembers because she usually had it back in a ponytail. And she was wearing a dress. She hated it, of course. Made climbing trees harder, but her mom had brought it back for her from Paris, so she loved it despite herself. They were 13, and he liked to think of her as his girlfriend, even though he'd never asked and they didn't really act like it. But, sometimes she let him hold her hand when his mom would drop them off at the movies. And sometimes at school, she'd reach out for *his* hand, because when she was with him, the other girls didn't make fun of her as much. They talked to her like she was their friend, and she loved being one of the cool kids. He knew that when they attended the big 8th Grade Farewell Dance, they had a very good chance of winning King and Queen. He hadn't asked her to go yet, though – that was months away. But he knew she'd say yes and it would be the best night of his life.

But, we all know how this story ends. He never got to go to the dance and Quinn Fabray was never his girlfriend. That day on that platform, with their initials carved into the little heart she'd put in the corner, he did something impulsive that both of them would regret for the rest of their lives.

Her golden hair was caught in the breeze and she smelled like the vanilla lip gloss she liked to wear. The yellow dress was lower cut than the t-shirts he was used to seeing her in, and he couldn't help it when his eyes wandered down to her chest, a layer of sweat glistening there. Her cheeks were flushed and she was smiling at him, at something he'd said. And without thinking (though he'd thought about it a lot), he leaned in quickly, grabbed her face, and kissed her. It lasted less than a second.

He had startled her, you see. And she squealed against his mouth, jerked away from him quickly. He lost his hold on her face and her knees shifted into his chest as she jumped away from him. He fell back quickly and the platform suddenly wasn't under him anymore. He saw her face contort in horror and she reached out for him, but he was already falling backward. He threw his arms out, tried to grab onto something, but the fall was quicker than his reflexes. He hit the ground hard, heard a sickening snap, felt wetness on his head. His vision blacks out and all he can focus on is the pain that seems to be everywhere. He blinks repeatedly, tries to clear his vision. He can hear Quinn screaming from far above him, but he can't make sense of what she's saying. He tries to lift his head, but it feels too heavy, somehow.

He sees light start to seep in and then shapes start to form. He can see the tree in front of him, can vaguely make out a yellow streak moving quickly down the tree. He tries to talk, tries to tell Quinn to get his mom, but then he hears a door slam and his mother's panicked screams. He sees Quinn jump the short distance from the tree, and she stumbles on the ground, crawls toward him. His mother is beside him then, touching his face, feeling the back of his head. She pulls her hand away and it's bloody and he suddenly feels like he might be sick. The spots in front of his eyes are getting bigger and he tries to reach for his mother, and then Quinn is beside her, handing her the phone. She's sobbing into the phone and he wants to tell her to calm down, that whoever is on the phone won't be able to understand her. But he can't make any noise come out and then he can't even see her anymore. Just hears her screaming, Quinn whimpering somewhere near his head. She's holding his hand and he tries to squeeze it, but he just can't seem to move at all. The last thing he remembers from that day is Quinn Fabray whispering his name.

It's three weeks later when he sees her again. She's wearing the yellow dress and she already looks really different. She looks like she's lost a lot of weight and her face is very pale, like she hasn't been outside since that day, either. Their moms whisper on the other side of the room, while she sits primly and stoically next to his bed. He overhears them talking about how Quinn hasn't been eating. How she cries all night. How she blames herself.

He still has a tube down his throat, so he can't talk to her. Can't tell her it's not her fault. When she won't look at him, he grabs her hand. She closes her eyes and he sees tears stream down her face. He wants to brush them away, but there are so many tubes, he doesn't think he can reach over. So, he just rubs his thumb along the top of her hand, waits for her to look at him. When she does, he almost wants to look away. She looks just as bad as he feels. She whispers that she's sorry. He shakes his head, but she keeps talking. Says it was stupid to pull away, that she wanted him to kiss her. Her mother comes over then, touches her shoulder, tells her they need to go. He squeezes her hand tighter and she leans down, quickly kissing his fingers before standing. She looks at him for a long moment before leaning over and pressing her lips to his forehead. She smiles at him from the door and it's the saddest thing he's ever seen.

She doesn't come back after that. His mom tells him that her mother doesn't think it's good for her, seeing him. That it depresses her and that her mom's worried. She's in counseling, apparently. She's lost twenty pounds and she won't go to school. He understands why she won't come see him, but it also hurts. A lot. It's an unbearable ache in his chest that gets worse as the weeks pass. Some of the other kids from school stop by now and then, but it's all very artificial. None of them know what to say or how to act. He feels guilty when he thinks it, but sometimes it seems like things would've been easier on everyone if he'd just died. It seemed that grieving over someone who was still alive was just awkward and uncomfortable.

Those were the loneliest months of his life.

Until Tina. And when Quinn Fabray approaches them slowly in the hallway, Tina doesn't understand why he stiffens in his chair. She stops a few feet in front of them, and he feels a sick sort of pleasure that her eyes still look just as sad as they last time he saw her. Of course, then he feels guilty for feeling that way. He's just never had it in him to be mean.

She says hello to them, introduces herself to Tina. Call herself "an old friend of Artie's." He asks her how she's been. She lies (he could always tell) and says she's been just great. She got in shape over the summer and tried out for the cheerleading squad. She's really good, apparently, and she's made lots of new friends. She's gotten really involved in her church and goes three times a week. He nods blandly in all the right places and honestly can't think of anything to say to all of that. While he was lying in a hospital bed and enduring months of grueling physical therapy, she'd kept all of his friends and gotten popular. Great.

He tries not to sound too bitter when he says he's happy for her, and he knows that she knows he's lying (she could always tell). She's gotten everything she's always wanted, after all. And he's … in a wheelchair. For the rest of his life. When she plasters a bright, fake smile on her face, he can't look at her anymore. He tells her he has to go and wheels away before Tina can have a chance to push him. She rushes after him, bends down next to his ear and asks what that was all about. He tells her nothing. The Quinn Fabray thing is absolutely nothing. And it hurts when he realizes that it always was. After a few weeks of casual nods and hellos in the hallways, they start ignoring each other. Eventually, it stops hurting so much.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The first time she sneaks into his room, it's the night of his 15th birthday.

His mother has ushered Quinn into the living room and she's looking at him with wide eyes. Asking permission, he thinks. He motions for her to come sit by him, asks her if she's ever played Rock Band. She shakes her head, so he hands her the guitar and tells the others to go easy on the girly-girl. Everyone laughs and she smiles at him gratefully. He remembers when he thought it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He can't help it when the thought makes him glance at Tina, and she makes a face that clearly says, "What the eff??" He smiles at her, a private smile just for her, and he decides that it's time to fill her in. Maybe after everyone else leaves.

Quinn isn't all that bad on the guitar, really. She has a sense of rhythm, which she sort of needs as a cheerleader, he supposes. The guys can't keep their eyes off of her, obviously, and he can see Mercedes shooting Tina looks, but for the most part, everyone seems to be getting along. When Mercedes suggests a round of Truth or Dare, everyone is for it. It's mostly harmless stuff, which he's thankful for. He'd seen the look of panic cross Tina's features, but he'd reached out and squeezed her arm, let her know he wouldn't let things get out of control. Large amounts of food were consumed on dares, Mercedes and Tina were forced to sing, Quinn had to perform a cheer for the group. Artie even got to pop a wheelie. They all knew that Johnny had gotten to second base last summer and that Mercedes had gotten suspended for kicking Noah Puckerman in the balls. Quinn tells them all about her awful first kiss experience while away at bible camp. He tried not to react, because obviously, she wasn't going to talk about her real first kiss.

After that, she gets really quiet and stops participating until Nick asks her, "Truth or Dare?" She hesitates longer than usual, and eyes Artie nervously. She eventually chooses Dare, and he knows it's because she doesn't want to answer any more questions about life before high school. She steels herself for whatever gross or embarrassing thing he's going to throw at her, but neither of them are prepared for what he actually says.

"I dare you to kiss Artie."

The room gets very quiet then and Quinn stares at Nick in shock. She looks at him quickly, moves her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Brad chimes in then.

"Hell yeah, plant one on him!"

Artie can feel this situation going from bad to worse, so he jumps in, tells Nick that she doesn't have to kiss anyone if she doesn't want to. It's Mercedes who cuts in next, before Tina can have a chance to elbow her hard in the ribs.

"Aw, yes she does! Kiss him, White Girl!" She's laughing and the others are all smiling and Quinn looks at him sheepishly, like she's realizing it will seem weirder if she doesn't just do it. Then she plasters on that fake smile and looks at the others.

"Only if Artie doesn't mind," she says playfully, and everyone but Tina hoots and hollers. He's relieved that she decides to play along, but really anxious at the same time. He nods, makes a joke about always wanting to kiss a cheerleader, so she stands up, approaches him slowly. With her back to the others, her face gets serious and she watches him carefully, like she's expecting him to change his mind. But, he's always been braver than her.

His eyes flash to Tina over her shoulder, and he's not sure how to read her expression. It's like she's fascinated by the situation in front of her, but also like she really wants to just look away, too. Quinn stops in front of him, starts to lean down, but then straightens, trying to figure out the best way to do this.

"Just sit on his lap," Brad offers. Quinn freezes, looks down at his legs.

"I don't know …" she starts, so he tells her that if she's worried about being too heavy, he can't feel it anyway. He hears the others laugh and he realizes it's easier when he just pokes fun at himself. She smiles down at him, the first real smile he's seen on her in almost a year. She gingerly moves into his lap, places her hands on his shoulders. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Tina look away, but then Quinn is moving toward him and someone whistles at them, and he's 13 years old again, up in that tree, his angel by his side.

Quinn's eyes shine at him and she leans in, placing her lips softly against his. He barely has time to kiss her back before her face crumbles against his. His eyes snap open and he realizes that tears are brimming in her eyes, and she quickly reaches up, covers her face with her hands. She jumps off of him like she's been shocked and she looks around her, shaking and not able to control the sob that escapes her mouth. Everyone stares at her in shock and she runs for the door, only stopping long enough to tell the room at large that if anyone says anything, she'll *ruin* them. And then she's gone.

Needless to say, the party's pretty much over after that. Johnny makes up dinner plans that he'd forgotten to mention before, and the other two catch a ride with him. Mercedes asks Tina if she needs a ride home, but Tina tells her that she thinks she'll stay. He shakes his head, tells her he's feeling tired anyway. He really doesn't want to do much talking anymore. His mother tries to get them to stay longer, so he lies that he's not feeling well, and he must look worse than he feels, because she immediately believes him and offers to make him some soup. Tina lingers in the door, torn between obeying his wishes and staying with her friend. When he turns away from her, she takes the hint and leaves quietly. He heads up to his room, eats his soup dutifully and lets his mother baby him for a bit. She asks him if he had a nice time and he easily lies that he did. He even tells her that it was nice seeing Quinn, but that he doesn't think they'll be best friends again. She seems to accept that, and he thinks she might suspect that something's wrong, but he's gotten pretty good at lying to her lately. She eventually leaves, to let him get his sleep. Honestly, he doesn't think he'll be getting any sleep hat night.

It's less than an hour later when he hears the scraping outside his window. He sits up, tries to strain his ears, to figure out what could be making the noise. He's only a little bit surprised when Tina's face appears in the window. He smiles, despite himself, just because he can only imagine what she had to do to get up to his second story window. They did have a rap-around porch that she would've been able to get on, but she still would've had to do some climbing.

"What are you doing?" he asks, and she stumbles over her baggy pants as she tries to climb in, falling into a heap on the floor. He reaches out in her general direction, but can't move much beyond that. When she finally looks up at him from under all her hair, she's smiling.

"I'm sneaking in," she says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. He smiles at her then.

"I think 'sneaking,' by definition, requires some degree of silence. Maybe just a little bit." She gets to her feet about as gracelessly as possible and smacks his knee. He says, "ow" automatically, but she just Looks at him, and then they laugh. She sits on the end of his bed then, tucking her legs under her, and then she just stares at him.

"What?" he asks her, shifting uncomfortably under her gaze.

"You're in bed awfully early," she tells him. "And you don't exactly look very sick." He forgot about that particular lie, and realizes that it's too late to start acting now. So, he shrugs it off.

"I didn't want my mom bothering me," he tells her, and that's mostly true. He also didn't really want *her* bothering him, but now that she's here, in his room, he can't really remember why he'd ever consider her a bother.

She nods absently, looks down at her hands that are fiddling with his comforter. He realizes with a start that she's actually playing with one of his feet, dragging her finger from his ankle all the way up to his toes. He's not sure he'll ever get used to that – watching someone touch him and not feeling it. It was very surreal and a bit off-putting, but he couldn't look away.

"Is this b-b-bothering you?" she asks him quietly. He looks back up to her, see that she's been watching him watch her. He thinks about it before answering, decides that it doesn't bother him at all. In fact, he likes her touching him.

"No," he tells her, smiling softly. "It doesn't."

She smiles, too, continues drawing patterns on his foot, sometimes moving her fingers up his leg. He watches her, fascinated by the way the streak of blue in her hair falls perfectly across her eyes. When she pushes it back behind her ears, though, the spell is broken. He reaches down, stills her hand, and she looks up at him in surprise.

"I'm assuming you didn't come all the way over here to play with my feet." He lets go of her hand and to his delight, she keeps touching him.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay," she tells him quietly, clearly. She won't meet his eye, probably afraid that he'll be upset, but he's not at all. He'd assumed as much, and when he thanks her, sincerely, gently, he's rewarded with that smile of hers that makes her eyes crinkle shut.

"You_ look_ better, at least," she says, and he pretends to be offended. Asks if he looked like crap before. She blushes when she tells him that he could never look like crap. She peeks up at him from under her lashes and he really has to restrain himself from reaching out and touching her.

Instead, he pats the space next to him and scoots himself over so she can have more room. She scrambles up the bed, bumps into him theatrically and giggles when he nudges her back.

They have a brief fight over the remote, but he eventually lets her win (he always does), and she settles on a rerun of _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_. Of course, he thinks, a Goth would like this show. But when she smiles at him the way she is now, he thinks that label doesn't really fit. Goth implies darkness and loneliness, and he just can't see Tina that way at all. Not when she's leaning her head on his shoulder and explaining to him, with only a few stutters and stammers, why exactly Spike is a better fit for Buffy than Angel. And when she starts to yawn, he tries not to think about how it's the cutest thing he's ever seen (it is), and when she leans over him and hugs him tightly before she leaves, he tries not look to desperate for her to stay (he fails).

On Monday, the guys don't really talk to him at Jazz Band, and he can't say he blames them all that much. But, Mercedes sits with them at lunch and Tina has taken their successful after-hours rendezvous as an open invitation to climb into his window whenever she wants. All in all, looking back, he'd have to say the party turned out to be a success, in a way.

And he's not sure whether to be sad or relieved, but he doesn't think about Quinn Fabray much after that night, either.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who left the kind reviews! I'm still sort of a baby writer, so I need all the encouragement I can get. This one was fun to do because we see a little more of Artie's mom and there's a bit more back-and-forth dialogue. Generally, I don't use a lot of strict dialogue, because I feel like I'm sort of writing from inside Artie's head, and if he was thinking about the situation, he wouldn't be remembering things word-for-word, you know? I hope that makes sense.

Anyway, the next part should have more of the other Glee clubbers, because sophomore year will be starting, and that means New Directions will be starting! "Yay, Glee! Glee kids HOORAY!"

~*~*~*~*~

The first time she actually spends the night, it's her birthday weekend.

It's the summer before their sophomore year, and she's been climbing through his window for the past couple months. But, she never sleeps there.

Well, that's not entirely true. Sometimes, she falls asleep, her head resting gently on his shoulder (sometimes on his chest). And sometimes, he'll just watch her for a little while. The way her lashes rest on her cheeks or how her hand has a tendency to twist itself in his shirt. She balls herself up, knees pulled up as close to her as possible, usually resting against his legs. And when he pulls her closer to him, holds her tighter, she always lets out this little, contented sigh.

It's the most wonderful thing he's ever heard.

But, it always ends. He eventually nudges her, wakes her up and tells her it's getting late. On the nights when she's wide awake, she starts to eye the clock right around midnight. The latest she's ever stayed is 3:07 AM and that's only because on that night, both of them fell asleep. The sound of his dad flushing the toilet down the hall wakes them up, and she jumps out of his bed faster than he ever thought possible. She rushes around, grabbing her stuff and putting on shoes, and right before she dives out the window, she runs back to him, jumps into his arms, and presses her face into his, placing a sloppy kiss on his jaw.

And then she's gone and the only thought running through his head is that he really just wishes she could stay.

A couple days before her birthday, he asks her if she has any plans. She shrugs, says not really, that she'll probably just go out with her parents or something. They're doing dishes in his kitchen during this conversation, and he doesn't miss how her mood changes at the mention of her parents. How she ducks her head, turns her back to him as much as possible.

To say that Tina has a complicated relationship with her parents would be an understatement, especially compared to his relationship with his own. He assumes that's why she's always at his place, and not just when she sneaks over. His mother started inviting her for dinner a few weeks back and she seems to like having a girl around. Of course, with Tina spending so much time with him, his mother has taken to asking him about her on a daily basis.

"Why don't you take her out some time?"

"Do you think she like-likes you?"

"Have you talked to Dr. Burns about the girl thing?"

This last question gets his attention.

"Why would I talk to Dr. Burns about girls? He's a physical therapist, not a guidance counselor." When he looks back to his mother, she's just staring at him like he's some kind of idiot.

"What?" he demands.

"Honey," she starts, but then stops and collects her thoughts. "Artie, have you ever talked about … sex?"

He nearly chokes on his coffee.

"_What_?!"

"I know right after the accident, we talked about your future prospects, and I know we talked about the functionality of your penis, and how sex –"

"Mom! _Stop_ talking about my penis!"

She shuts her mouth and stares at him, her face clearly saying that she thinks he's overreacting. And she's probably right, but that still doesn't mean he wants his mother talking to him about sex or his penis.

"Look," he starts, taking a breath and calming down. "Yes, we've talked about …"

"Sex," she supplies for him.

He glares at her.

"Yes. We've talked about the sex thing."

"Not that I want you having sex," she adds quickly.

"Of course not," he agrees, shaking his head for emphasis.

"I just know that at this age, you're going to start thinking about girls and girlfriends and with you spending so much time with Tina, I just want you to be prepared."

"Well," he says slowly, not sure exactly what to say to that. "I am."

Her fear that her son might be having The Sex, though, doesn't seem to affect her opinion of Tina in any way. In a word, it appears that she adores her, even if she's not that fond of the goth look. And even though she'd never admit it, he knows Tina loves the attention, something she doesn't seem to get at home.

Her dad's a dermatologist and her mom works in his office. Well, "works" in that she goes in a couple days a week to keep herself busy. Really, she's a socialite (or as much of a socialite as you can be in Lima). In short, they're not home that much, and when they are, they don't really pay Tina much attention. Her parents were older and had both been married before and already had their kids. They made no secret of the fact that Tina was an unexpected accident. When she was younger, she had nannies, and as soon as she was old enough to cook for herself, they left her home alone a lot.

Artie hated to say it, because the thought was fairly depressing, but he was pretty sure that Tina's parents were those particular brand of parents that loved their spouses more than their children. And the worst part was that he was positive Tina knew it, too.

Given that, it was no surprise that she liked being at his house so much, and it's part of the reason he lets her keep sneaking over, even though he thinks his mom is getting suspicious. He says "part of the reason" because, especially lately, there are a whole mess of _other_ reasons he likes her to come over. Having her pressed against him in his bed? Yeah, that's a big one.

So, he tells her she can come over there for her birthday dinner, but she shakes her head, insists that her parents will take her out.

"Will you come over after?" he asks her, and the way she smiles to herself , the way she peeks over her shoulder at him and nods quickly, makes his chest tighten. And not in the scary way like when the jocks tape his wheels together at school, but in a completely different way. A good way.

When they finish up the dishes, she helps him get up to his room (he tells his mother he has some summer homework and then he's going to bed early) and then she makes a big show of saying goodbye to his mother before leaving through the front door. Less than five minutes later, she's climbing through the window. They'd conveniently leaned his dad's ladder casually against the wall outside his room, and to his surprise, his parents had never even noticed. Not yet, anyway.

They actually do work on some homework, but for the most part, they listen to music and he strums his guitar. She plays with his hair, puts little braids in it that he ends up leaving in through the next day. He helps her put safety pins on her plaid pants, all the way up the sides of her legs. He tries not to think about his hands touching her thighs, but he fails miserably.

Before she leaves, he tells her that he'll have a surprise for her when she comes over. Her face lights up, she gets a devious smile on her face.

"A surprise?" And her voice sort of squeals at the end and she claps her hands together excitedly.

"Like a present?" She's scooted closer to him, leans down so her face hovers over his. He laughs, grabs the blue streak that he loves so much, runs it though his fingers.

"Less of a present, more of an edible treat," he tells her and she jumps a little in front of him.

"Cupcakes!" she yells and she doesn't say it like a question, because she knows that he knows they're her favorite. Plus, he's made them for her before.

He plays coy, says maybe, and she shoves him with her foot.

"Don't tease me," she laughs. She leans over him, gives him their customary hug and kiss on the cheek, tells him she'll see him later. And then she leaves him, like always, and he feels something like an ache in his chest. Like she takes a part of him with her every time she goes.

He lays back, arms behind his head, and tries to focus on how he'll see her tomorrow, or in two days at the latest. He tries to think about how he'll fill his day until she comes over, and nothing seems that interesting without her anymore.

The next night (the day before Tina's birthday), his mother ropes him and his dad into a game of Scrabble. Generally, he's anti-Scrabble, especially because his mom is a rules-Nazi, and if she's not going to let him use words like google ("I'm using it as a verb, not a proper noun!"), then it's just more effort than fun. But, for some unknown reason, it's like her favorite game, so he plays and he tries to contain his eye-rolling, and as soon as it's over, he heads up to his room to practice some new chords he's been working on.

Only, when he walks in, he finds Tina already in his room, lying across his bed, with a bottle of wine lying next to her. He freezes in the door way, dumbfounded by what he sees, and it takes him a whole 20 seconds to think to turn around and shut the door. The sound makes her look up at him, and the usual smile that greets him is nowhere to be found. Her eyes are red, eyeliner smudging under her eyes, and her face is puffy, like she's been crying for hours.

He gets to her quickly, picks up the bottle and sees that she's already downed half of it. When he asks her where she got it, she mumbles that her mother will never even miss it, seeing as how they have an entire wine cellar. So, he grabs her arms and helps her get into a sitting position, wipes his fingers under her eyes and they come away black.

"I'm s-s-sorry," she whispers, and the return of her stutter makes something in his stomach twist uncomfortably.

"No, no," he whispers back and he pulls her to him, practically pulling her into his lap, and she buries her face against his neck. She sniffles into his shirt and he rubs her back the way his mom always does for him after a particularly crappy day at school. When he asks what happened, she wordlessly hands him a wadded piece of paper that he hadn't even noticed she was holding onto before. She chokes out that her parents left it for her, and he knows what it's going to say before he even reads it.

They tell her that they decided to go away for the weekend, for their anniversary. They left money for pizza and emergencies and they'll see her when they get back. Oh, and happy birthday. They'll do something when they get back.

He doesn't know what to say. He remembers her mentioning that their anniversary was the day after her birthday, but he doesn't think they've ever gone away without her before. At least not for the whole weekend.

She's quiet now, just resting her head against his chest. He rests his cheek against her forehead, wads the offending note up even more and tosses it in his trashcan. He says, "I'm sorry" against her head and she nods, says she knows. Says she couldn't stay in that house, in that big house all alone. The words are out of his mouth before he thinks about them.

"You can stay here."

She sniffles, nods her head against his neck.

"W-w-what about your parents?" she asks, slowly untangling herself from him. He nods toward the door.

"Well, that's what they make locks for."

That gets a smile out of her – a devious little smile. She climbs off of him, almost falls over but manages to skip over to the door, and turns the lock. When she turns around, leaning her back against the door, there are still tears on her face, but she's smiling at him.

"Now what?" she whispers conspiratorially.

He turns his chair toward her slowly, moves forward a little.

"Now, you stay in here for tonight," he says slowly, and he tries not to think too much about how that makes her blush. "And tomorrow, we tell my mom that your parents are out of town and you'll be staying with us for the weekend."

"They won't mind?" She's walking toward him now, eyes darting back to the door every few seconds. It's funny, he thinks. She's been hiding in his room for the better part of three months now, but it's only now, with the prospect of her actually _spending the night_, that it seems like they're actually doing something wrong.

And maybe, just maybe, that's why he likes it so much.

"We all love you," he assures her, and he doesn't miss how her eyes widen slightly at the implication. "Come here."

He holds his hand out to her. She looks at him hesitantly for a couple seconds before she joins him, her hand sliding easily into his. Like they've done it a thousand times.

He guides her down onto the bed, and then he leans over, takes off one of her shoes. She laughs softly, but holds her other leg up obligingly when he motions for it.

"Now, you're going to go in the bathroom and take a nice, long shower." Here, she sighs, and he swears he could listen to that sound all day. "Then, you're going to put on these comfy pajamas," he continues, handing her a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt. She takes them in her hands, holds them tightly to her chest. "And then you're going to get a good night's sleep."

She stands before him, rocking slightly on the balls of her feet, looking like she's considering something. Then, she reaches out and touches his face, just her fingers on his cheek.

"_We're_ going to get a good night's sleep," she amends softly.

He nods against her hand, thinks about what to say to that, but then she's gone, disappearing into his bathroom. He hears the water start and he tries really hard not to think about how there's a naked girl just on the other side of the door.

Instead, he puts on a pair of flannel pants and an undershirt, gets himself into bed. He scoots as far to the right side as possible, makes sure she has enough room. But as he's moving some pillows around for her, it suddenly occurs to him that she might not want to actually sleep with him. In the same bed and all. He contemplates trying to just make himself a bed on the floor, but he really doesn't think she'd allow that, and he's certainly not letting _her_ sleep on the floor. But just when he's starting to think he didn't think this through enough, she answers all of his questions. Or, rather, _she's_ the answer to all of his questions.

"Were you thinking about eating that pillow or something?"

He looks up, and she's standing in the doorway, already in his clothes and hair wrapped up in a towel. His pants, which hang loosely on his small hips, fit her much better, making him notice her curves for nowhere near the first time. His shoulders have already broadened quite a bit, though, so the shirt is a bit big, but he still thinks she looks great. In fact, with all her dark make-up scrubbed off, he doesn't think she's ever looked so beautiful.

"Well?" she prompts him, and she nods at the offending pillow again, and he thinks he might have just imagined it, but he's pretty sure she's trying to hide a smile. He takes his eyes off her, looks down at the pillow in question.

"I was just thinking about how we were going to do this." He gestures toward the bed, which is a double, but still a little small for two people.

Though, that apparently doesn't matter to her, because after taking the towel out of her hair, she closes the distance between them and climbs in beside him. She warns him that she's a bit of a cover hog, so he tells her to just stick to her own side of the bed, and he won't have to kick her. It takes her a few seconds, but that makes her laugh, and she at least seems like she's in a much better mood.

She pulls her wet hair back into a ponytail with the band that she always has around her wrist. He can smell his own shampoo on her and while it's definitely weird, for some reason, it makes something tighten in his chest. Like, somehow, it seems like she's more _his_. (And he means that in the least possessive/creepy way possible.)

She hunkers down, curls up on her side, facing away from him. He doesn't know how to take that, and he tries to ignore how much it hurts, so he just turns off the light and slides down into a lying position. And they stay like that, silent, lying only a few inches away from each other, for what seems to him like an hour. But, when he turns his head to take a peek at the clock, it's only really been four minutes. He sighs, prepares for a long night ahead, with her _right there_, breathing, and just generally _existing_ in the same space as him. He didn't deserve it.

And then, suddenly, she's shifting. He's debating whether or not to pretend that he's already asleep, but she's already leaning over him. He briefly thinks that she might just kiss him, right then and there, but then he's quickly relieved that he ignored the desire (the very strong desire) to pull her face down to his, because instead, she grabs his right arm and starts pulling him toward her.

"What are you-"

"Don't," she says quietly, and just tugs on his arm some more.

It's only a little awkward as he tries to get his legs to cooperate, but soon enough, he's on his side, and she's pulling him close behind her, wrapping his arm around her middle. She presses her back into his chest, holds his hand tightly in hers. He can feel her body trembling against him and that's when he realizes that the wetness he feels on his hand isn't from her hair. She's crying again.

"Tina," he whispers against her hair, but she shakes her head.

"Please, d-d-don't say anything," she asks him, and it pains him to hear the struggle in her voice. He obeys, holds her to him even tighter.

"Can we just …" she trails off, tries to start again. "Let's just … Can we just stay like this for a little while?" Her voice breaks on the last word, and he wonders if there's anything she could ask of him that he wouldn't do in a heartbeat.

He nods against the back of her neck, presses a quick kiss to the skin visible beneath her hair, as she laces their fingers together against her chest.

He can feel her heart racing against their hands, and he knows she must be able to feel his hammering against her back. He wonders if she suspects what it does to him, having her pressed against him like this, but then he scolds himself for thinking about that when she clearly just needs him to be a good friend. Her best friend.

So, he waits for her the tears to stop and for her breathing to slow down. He starts to nod off, so he's not sure if he really feels her lips pressing against his hand. He is, however, awake enough to hear her say his name.

"Artie?"

"Hm?"

"Have you ever spooned before?"

He smiles against her shoulder. Her voice is steady now, calm.

"Nope."

That makes her sigh. A perfectly content, happy sigh.

"Me neither."

And then they sleep. Easily and comfortably wrapped in each other's arms, as if it was something they would do for the rest of their lives.

~*~*~*~*~

Post-Author's Note: A glimpse for the next part, where things will start getting_ really_ interesting. :)

"The first time she touches him, like _touches_ touches him, he doesn't even know it's happening. Not until he starts to feel a sort of warmth spreading through his abdomen. And then, when he looks down at her, he sees her hand in his pants. _Oh_."


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: So, apparently, I'm not as reliable at updating as I wanted to be. SO sorry for the delay in getting this up, but I hope it was worth the wait. This chapter is for Doxthextimexwarp, who waited not-so-patiently for me to update. lol. This chapter gets a little more risque, though I don't think it's really enough to up the rating. Let me know what you guys think about that. And sorry for all the angsting - that's just how I seem to roll. :)

Also, some people have questioned the Artie/Quinn thing from the beginning of the story. I think the reason I did that was because, in my head, Artie has the type of personality, with his witty one-liners and quiet confidence, that he very easily could have been popular if not for the wheelchair putting some people off. And Quinn was the sort of obvious choice for me to have him interact with, just because we already know her and I thought it would be interesting. Don't worry, though - if there even is anymore interaction between the two, it won't be much at all. As you can already see, this story is fairly limited to Artie's bedroom and won't stray too far from that.

Thanks for all of the wonderful reviews! You guys are awesome! 3

~*~*~*~*~

The first time she touches him, like _touches_ touches him, he doesn't even know it's happening. Not until he starts to feel a sort of warmth spreading through his abdomen. And then, when he looks down at her, he sees her hand in his pants. _Oh_.

He can't say he's surprised by this development, seeing as how, over the past several weeks, she's made her growing interest in him very clear. Most notably, she's seemed to make it her mission in life to familiarize herself with his entire body. He supposes her venture below the waist was inevitable, but he still sort of can't believe it's happening.

Since her birthday, their little sleepovers have continued on a regular basis, with her climbing into his bed at least three or four times a week. Once school had started up, though, it made things a little more difficult. For starters, her parents were home more regularly, now that summer was over, so that made it harder for her to sneak out (though, on occasion, she still managed it even when they were home). His own mother had gotten a little stricter, as far as how late Tina was allowed over and how often. Plus, she's also always come in to wake him up for school in the morning, and he thinks it'd be a little suspicious if he suddenly started locking his door.

Honestly, as far as his mother goes, he'd prefer that Tina not sleep over at all during the week. But, on some occasions, she's flat out refused to leave his bed. Even when he asks her nicely and pulls out the puppy eyes. The things is, her puppy eyes are seemingly much more affective than his, because he always ends up letting her stay. They just set his alarm for an hour earlier than he usually gets up, and it's worked for the most part, though they've had a couple close calls.

One time, she hadn't even made it out of the bed. They'd had a particularly late night, staying up and talking excitedly about Glee club and how crazy Rachel Berry was. So, when his alarm had gone off, he must've just shut it off and gone back to sleep, because all of a sudden, he was awoken by his mother yelling through the door that it was time to get up. She had paused a second to knock, like she always did (though it was never a real knock, because she never waited for him to answer to open the door), and that had been enough time for him to shove Tina down and yank the covers over her head.

Luckily, his mom barely stepped through the doorway, seeing that he was already wide awake. She'd only glanced at him for a second, told him that they were having waffles for breakfast, before she turned back around and shut the door. He'd fallen back on the bed in relief and then pulled the covers off to discover that Tina's head was in his lap. She smiled impishly at him, told him that if he wanted sexual favors, he could've just asked. This statement made him uncomfortable, to say the least, so he covered by smacking her swiftly on the head before reaching down and yanking her up by her arms. She squealed with delight and he had to put a hand over her mouth to shut her up.

They were more careful after that, but the sleepovers had continued, and the more time they spent together in his bed, the less he was able to predict her behavior. It started out with innocent enough caresses. Her hand lingers on his face after she brushes his hair out of the way, or on his arm when she's just trying to get his attention. It thrills him every time, the mix of physical and emotional reactions she causes in him. It's like wherever she touches, she leaves a hot trail, and his stomach twists, but in the best way possible.

Sometimes, though, he wonders if she even realizes what she's doing. It's the way she does it so absently, like she's not thinking about it at all. And the thing is, he's thinking about it _so much_, that he just can't see her being so casual about it if it meant the same thing to her. And that was always sort of obvious to him, that she didn't reciprocate his feelings, at least not fully. Yes, she was clearly very fond of him and obviously liked him as a person, but that didn't automatically mean she was physically attracted to him or romantically interested. And why would she be? He was useless to her physically (well, not really, but close enough). He didn't have much to offer her and he'd accepted that, and was prepared to just be the friend she clearly desperately needed.

But then, the touching became not so innocent. Not so casual. It became more … intimate. He wasn't sure what to make of it all at first, but decided it would be best to not get his hopes up about anything. At least not yet.

They're actually at Glee rehearsal when he first notices that something's different. They've taken to sitting in the back, where they can safely observe the other members and gossip about things like Mercedes' hopeless and delusional crush on Kurt. She always wheels him over, and then pulls the closest chair right up next to him, close enough that she can lean on his armrest if she wants. (He always leans a little forward, taking the front part, while her elbow rests between his and the back of the chair.)

He had the high-backed chair that day. Mr. Schue had said they wouldn't be working on any choreography, so there was no need for the low-backed one. So, when she pulled her chair up that day, he should've known something was off, because she didn't lean over to use the armrest like she usually did. Instead, she reaches her arm behind him, using the back of the chair, and he can feel her resting her arm lightly against his shoulders. He really tries not to react, but he must tense or something, because she looks at him quickly before relaxing further against him.

It feels … nice. Having her there against him. Especially outside the confines of his room. No one notices them, of course, but it still gives him a little thrill all the same. Even more so when her fingers start toying with the collar of his shirt. Again, he tries not to have a physical reaction to her, but again, he fails miserably. He trembles a little at her touch, a shiver spreading down his back. Her fingers pause in their movements, and he chances a glance at her, catches her trying to suppress a smug little smile.

_Well_. He doesn't know whether to be annoyed or turned on by that. So, he settles on a little bit of both. (Or, rather, a little bit of one and a _lot_ of the other.)

She lets her fingers move feather-light across his neck, moves them up into his hair, where she drags her nails against his scalp. He can't help it. He lets his eyes fall shut and he tries to suppress the moan he can feel in the back of his throat. Luckily, before he has a chance to completely embarrass himself, Mr. Schue calls out his name, asks if rehearsal is boring him. His head shoots up and he can feel his face getting hot. And of course, Tina has that damn smirk on her face, like she's won some kind of game that he didn't even know they were playing. He's still not sure how he feels about that, so he tells Mr. Schue that he needs to use the bathroom and gets the hell out of there.

When he comes back, he makes sure to sit on the opposite side of the room from her, next to Rachel. Of course, this means he has to put up with her "coaching" for the rest of rehearsal, specifically about how he needs to sit up straighter while he sings. He just rolls his eyes and ends up looking for Tina anyway. She's already watching him, smiling devilishly and shaking her head, as if to say, "It's your own fault for sitting over there." He tries to give her a dirty look, but he can't stay mad at her for long. And besides, he _is_ happy to see that she doesn't keep her eyes off of him for the rest of rehearsal.

A few nights later, they're actually trying to get some of their readings done for school, and she's curled herself up to his side, a copy of To Kill a Mockingbird in her hand. He's got his history book open on his chest, and eventually, she starts fading and tosses her book on the floor, lays her head on his shoulder. This is nothing new for them. In fact, this is usually how she likes to go to sleep – him on his back with his arm around her, while she tucks her knees up to his hip and lays her head on the spot between his shoulder and his chest.

He's resting his chin on the top of her head, the smell of his own shampoo wafting up at him from her hair, and his vision's just starting to blur, when he feels a sudden tickle just below his belly button. He jerks and she lifts her head quickly, looks at him apologetically.

"Sorry," she says quickly. He looks down and sees her hand frozen against his stomach, fingers hidden beneath his shirt. "I just … wanted to know," she finishes lamely and looks a little embarrassed.

He tries not to act too flustered, but she's still touching him, and her hand is hot against him. She sputters over herself, tries to explain that she wanted to know if he could feel her. He swears he's told her that before, that it's about halfway between his hips and belly button, but he figures maybe she forgot. When he doesn't respond, she spreads her palm flat against him.

"Like, can you feel this?" she asks tentatively.

He tries to concentrate on what she's asking, but he's distracted by her little finger dipping beneath his boxers.

"Um," he manages, and he tries to swallow, but his throat is all tight and dry, and he's suddenly _very_ aware of every place where her body is touching his. He reaches down quickly, grabs her finger and moves it to the exact right place.

"Here?" she whispers. It sounds like more than a question, almost like a request or like she's asking for permission or something. The only problem is, he's not sure what she's asking for. Or if he even has it to give. He wants to – wants to give her everything she could ever want. But sometimes, he thinks that she doesn't get it. That he _can't_ give her some things.

He can only nod, so she starts to trail that finger along his abdomen, causing little goosebumps to rise in her wake. She's propped herself up on her elbow now, eyes wide awake and going back and forth between watching her own progress and watching his reaction. She inches her hand upward, moving it under his shirt and pushing it up in the process. He has a strong urge to pull her hand away, so he balls his fists into the sheets instead. If she notices this, she chooses to ignore it, and just continues to move her hands across the slight, but defined muscles of his abdomen. He tenses against her touch, and she smiles from behind her hair, looks at him with mischievous eyes.

When the tips of her fingers graze his chest, his breath catches and he makes an embarrassing little noise in the back of his throat. This makes her giggle, and again, he struggles with being annoyed at her for teasing him like this, or just being really,_ really_ turned on. As always, the latter wins out.

His shirt is practically hiked up to his neck at this point, as she runs a long finger along his throat and jawline. And then she's tugging at his shirt, saying something about how he doesn't have to wear it. *That* gets his attention. He finally reaches up, stills her hands against his bare chest, tells her to stop. She looks at him with wide eyes, explains that she didn't mean much by it.

"I mean, do you wear a shirt to bed when I'm not here?" she asks, but it's like she's covering. Like that's not what she meant at all. He tells her no, he doesn't generally, but also points out that she_ is_ here. She shrugs it off, tells him that he doesn't have to do things differently just because of her. In fact, if he wanted to, he could just sleep in his boxers – it wouldn't bother her. And she sounds … disappointed? He can't really tell, because she's not looking at him now. She's doing that thing where she hides behind her hair, and he thinks she might be a little mad at him, though he can't really see why she would be.

Her hands are still on his chest, so he moves them away, pulls his shirt back down. Tells her he doesn't think that would be appropriate. This evokes a bitter laugh from her, a scoff. It doesn't suit her. She harshly points out that her sleeping in his _bed_ isn't exactly all that appropriate, either. Is he saying he doesn't want her there anymore? Her face looks stricken, almost scared, and he can see her eyes shining, and he's not sure how things got so far out of his control. He's not sure of a lot of things these days.

He shakes his head, tells her quickly that that's not what he wants. He wraps a hand around her neck, pulls her down to him, places her in the spot that she likes, where she fits perfectly against him. She takes a couple deep breaths, and he hates to think about how _he_ upset her, because clearly he did, even if he's not sure exactly how he managed it. He doesn't understand it, but he feels awful all the same. He feels even worse when she heaves a big breath, sits up and settles herself next to him, curling up on her side, but facing away from. His chest tightens painfully at that, especially when he realizes that she's _never_ turned away from him before. Even when she's sleeping, she stays pressed against him and never leaves his side.

It only makes him feel a little better when, later that night and probably in a sleepy haze, she pulls his arm around her. But, for the first time that he can remember, he's glad that it's the weekend, and that he won't have to see her at school tomorrow.

So, of course, she climbs through his window the very next night, something she hasn't done in weeks. She acts normal enough, though her smile doesn't reach her eyes, and he feels his stomach twist with guilt. Rationally, he knows that even if she is mad at him, she has no real reason to be. He should be the one that's annoyed, what with her teasing him relentlessly for the past week, but he just can't bring himself to be upset with her.

Their conversation is stilted and he hates the distance he can feel between them. He's never been uncomfortable around her before, but now he just doesn't know what to do or say. He can't believe that this is all about last night, but that's the only thing it could be. He contemplates stripping down to his boxers, just to see if that would make her happy, but he ultimately decides that that actually sounds kind of silly. When she finally settles into bed, he's at least happy that she curls up next to him like always, and he puts his arm around her, holds her a little tighter than usual. Hopes that if he wants it enough, he can hold them together.

He's almost asleep when he feels her touching him. Running her hands over his stomach again, up and under his shirt. He sort of wants to stop her, because _clearly_ there's more going on here than just her inappropriate fascination with his body, but he doesn't want to risk scaring her off. He's honestly afraid that she might just up and leave, and that's the last thing he wants. So, he lies perfectly still, lets her little hands roam over him.

Once she gets his shirt pushed up, he feels her press a light a kiss to his ribs and his whole chest tenses. He lets his hand wander up to her neck, wraps his fingers in her hair. He glances down at her, and she's watching him carefully, seeing if he'll let her keep playing. Because that's what she's doing, he realizes. It's a sort of game that they're playing. Only, it's not all that fair because he feels like he doesn't really have a choice in the matter. She'll always win.

Her face is close to his now, and he thinks about reaching up, grabbing that streak of blue, and kissing her the way he's been dying to for months now. Instead, he watches her get this strange look in her eyes, like she's made some kind of decision. And then, she _licks_ him. Like, full on leans over and licks his throat. He feels his eyes fall shut then, lets a little moan escape his lips. She's smiling against his neck and it makes him feel good, despite himself. He lets his hand fall to her back, and he can feel her skin where her shirt has ridden up. She's soft and warm and he sort of just wants to touch her all over.

His whole body is hot now, tingling everywhere she's touching him and then some. Her teeth graze over his collarbone and then she's sucking at his pressure point and he's barely even paying attention to what her hands are doing. He knows one is digging into his shoulder and the other one is unaccounted for, but he doesn't really care at this point. He's vaguely aware of the fact that this is getting further and further out of his control, but all he can really focus on is the feel of her, closer to him than he ever thought possible.

His stomach clenches then, a warmth spreading through his abdomen that sends little shivers throughout his body. He can feel a pressure building, tightening, somewhere below his belly button, and he's not sure what makes him do it, but he raises his head slightly to see exactly what she's doing. And that's when he sees her hand in his pants.

He briefly considers yelling for her to stop, but he gets distracted by the way her hand moves up and down beneath the sheets. So, he just throws his head back and shuts his eyes tight, winds his hand through her hair as she spreads wet kisses across his chest. He doesn't last much longer after that sight. Usually, it takes quite a bit of effort for him to get himself off manually, what with him not being able to physically feel the sensation. But, arousal is really more mental than physical, especially for someone in his condition (as he's read several times), and having her pressed against him, nearly driving him crazy before she ever even touched him down there, probably helped a lot. In fact, he hazily wonders if she's been doing some of her own reading, but he's honestly far too spent to think about that too much right now.

He can feel her leaning over him, waiting for him to open his eyes and look at her, he supposes, but he's not sure he's ready to do that yet. He's feeling a mix of embarrassment and insecurity, at having her see him so intimately when he wasn't even sure he was ready for all that. He feels awkward enough when she insists on just touching his feet, let alone when she's giving him a full-blown handjob. Not to mention the whole mess of other issues that are clearly happening with her right now.

She's touching his forehead now, wiping a strand of sweaty hair off of his face. When he finally opens his eyes, she's staring at him intently, like she's waiting for him to say something. Or yell at her. Again, he's not sure what she wants to hear, so he just says the first thing that comes to mind.

"Um, thanks?"

Her eyes narrow at him, but only briefly. She bursts out laughing, throws herself at him and hugs him tightly around the neck before burrowing herself into his side.

"What?" he demands. Instead of answering, she just mocks him, repeats his moment of brilliance and just shakes her head against his shoulder. He rolls his eyes and squeezes her to him, presses a kiss to her head. And when her hand starts to wander this time, he firmly grabs it in his own, laces their fingers together and places them against his chest.

"I think you've had enough fun for one night."

He laughs at the way she pouts, and tries not to notice how her hand lies loosely in his. How she doesn't hold it back. How his stomach feels uneasy at what just happened. He hopes that the fact that she's smiling and sighing contentedly against him means her curiosity has been fulfilled. That things will go back to normal.

He hopes.

~*~*~*~*~

Post-Author's Note: To whoever asked about their first kiss, you can see that it hasn't happened yet. lol. I'm evil like that. It will happen eventually, obviously, but let's just say these two are doing things a little backwards. And don't worry - there's no kind of abuse in Tina's past or anything like that, besides the obvious emoitonal neglect from her parents. I don't want anyone worrying about me going there. My version of Tina was inspired by something Jenna said a while back - that she thinks there's a very dark side to Tina, that she covers with the goth look and everything. That Glee makes her happy. I like to think that Artie also makes her happy, but I think that this is a plausible way for her darker side to come out in that relationship.

Sorry if anyone was looking for fluff. There might be some later on, but I think I should let you know that, at least for now, I only seem able to write angst. I hope you'll all keep reading all the same, though! I can and will guarantee a happy ending, but I feel like those types of endings are all the more fulfilling if it's a hard road to get there, you know?


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: Well, here it is! An update, finally. Again, I'm terribly sorry about the insane amount of time between updates, but unfortunately, it looks like this will be the norm. Especially with me starting grad school next month. However, you don't have to worry about me ever abandoning this story. I'm constantly thinking about it and writing down notes in my notebook, so it's very well mapped out and I'm really looking forward to getting it all published for you guys. Right now, it looks like this story will be at least another 10-15 chapters or so, maybe even longer given that I keep coming up with new firsts and ideas.

So, I hope that the eventual length of this will help with the long delays between chapters. Please don't think that it's any kind of reflection on my awesome reviewers and followers. I appreciate each and every review and that's the main reason why I refuse to ever give up on this story. You all have been so kind and I couldn't ask for better readers! Shout-outs to Laughingteal, Clockwork-Hobo101, Char-chan, Chuckney, and doxthextimexwarp for their continued dedication and patience with me. Thanks, guys!

This chapter gets pretty racy (for me anyway), but it probably won't ever get more graphic than this. I'm just not comfortable writing full-on NC-17, but I'd still be interested if anyone thinks I should up the rating. Let me know!

~*~*~*~*~

The first time he touches her, it's because she asks him to. And really, even when he finally does it, she mostly does it for him. It's not like he doesn't want to touch her (God, how could he not?). It's just that this whole thing has been making him more and more uncomfortable the longer it's been going on. The further she pushes them (him), the more he sort of just wants things to go back to Normal.

Except that Normal doesn't include her snuggled up against him every night, or the way she smiles against his neck while she works him into a frenzy with her hand. How she fits perfectly against him, one leg always thrown over his hips and wound between his legs. Like she's afraid he'll try to leave in the middle of the night or something.

And he's thought about it. Unwinding himself from her, telling her she should go. That whatever it is they're doing isn't healthy. Because he knows it's not love, what she's doing with him. It's some morbid fascination she has, possibly entirely related to his physical condition, and that just makes him squirm if he thinks about it too much. He's not a psych expert or anything, but he's pretty sure it has something to do with her parents, and the fact that she never got the love and attention she needed and deserved.

But even all of these very rational thoughts can't seem to make him push her away. Sometimes he thinks that if he holds onto her tight enough, if he loves her enough, then maybe it will be enough for the both of them. Maybe he doesn't need her to be his girlfriend or whatever. Maybe he can make this be enough for him, if it's enough for her. At least for now, when she clearly needs this (him).

So he just watches, enthralled, as she kisses a trail down his chest, blows lightly on the hairs just above his boxers. He still wears pajama pants to bed, but he has started forgoing the shirt, since it usually ends up twisted uncomfortably around his neck anyway. His hand is fisted in her hair and her hand has already pushed his pants down below his hips. He's glad that she's content to just have him lay there, since he doesn't have another option. She just reaches under him, pulls his pants down swiftly, and he thinks that it'd probably be uncomfortable having them around his thighs like that, if he could feel it at all.

She palms him, pulls him out of his boxers, and he can never quite get over the sight of himself in her hands. Feeling it in his stomach, all the way up to his throat, but at the same time, _not_ feeling it at all.

Watching her little hand wrapped around him is the most erotic thing he's ever experienced, and he's pretty sure he's never been so turned on. He wants to keep watching her, but then she starts sucking at his collarbone, his throat, and he can't focus on anything anymore. So, he lets his eyes fall shut and tries to just _feel_ her on him.

He feels her hair tickling his chest, feels her mouth move over his stomach. And it takes him a few seconds to realize that he can only feel her hand now, splayed across his stomach. When he manages to lift his head up, he's shocked to see her face hovering over the vicinity of his lap. Without thinking, he bolts up straight, reaching down and grasping her by the arms. He pulls her up the length of him, and the look of shock on her face would have been funny, if not for the entirely unfunny situation that they were in.

"What?" she asks sharply, trying to pull herself away from him. He holds her tighter, needs to make her understand, but he doesn't even know where to begin. So, he just tells her that she doesn't have to do that. A flash of confusion washes over her, and then she laughs just a little.

"I thought I hurt you or something," she scolds him quietly. He laughs uncomfortably, but doesn't let her go when she tries to move back down him.

"Don't," he tells her softly. She stops moving, looks at him carefully. "Please."

"I don't mind," she whispers against his face, nudges her nose against his. "I _want_ to," she smiles into his cheek, presses a kiss there, then moves to his jaw, before trying to lower herself again.

"Tee," he pleads simply. He starts a couple of times, but stops to collect his thoughts - he wants to word this right. He doesn't want to upset her.

"I just ... I don't ..." He takes a breath. "I _can't_ have you ... that close." Her eyes dart down and he realizes she's hurt, so he rushes to explain. "I mean, touching is one thing, but that ..." He rubs his hand over his face in frustration, embarrassment. "I just can't, okay? At least not yet."

She's looking at him now, just staring, perched lightly on his chest. She glances back down at him and he suddenly remembers that he's still exposed. He squirms against her, wants this moment to just be over. When she looks back up at him, it's with a sad smile on her face. She tells him she doesn't mind. She likes him the way he is.

His chest tightens beneath her and he has a hard time getting his next words out around the lump in his throat.

"I know. But ... I mind." She nods slowly against his face.

"I know," she says, and settles herself on top of him, reaching down and tugging his pants back up. She straddles him, tucks her knees up close to his hips and rests her cheek on his chest.

"I wish you wouldn't," she mumbles against him. He wraps his arms around her, holds her as tight against him as he can manage. Presses his face against her head.

"I'm working on it," he says into her hair. "I'm sorry."

He feels her shake her head, and she tells him not to do that.

"Do what?"

"You don't ever have to say you're sorry to me," she says so quietly that he can barely hear her. "It just throws us even more off balance.

He takes that in, tries to understand her meaning. He feels like he should always be apologizing to her - for not being what she needs or deserves. For not being enough. Not _ever_ being enough.

He keeps these thoughts to himself because he doesn't want to upset more than he already has. So, they just lay there together, wrapped around each other. For that night at least, just being there, together, is enough for both of them.

The next night, she seems content to just sleep. That is, until he accidentally brushes his hand against her breast. He was trying to reposition the arm that was under her, around her shoulders. But when he tried to move his arm, she decided to reposition herself as well, and his hand grazed her chest through the thin undershirt she was wearing. She's taken to wearing his clothes to bed - a pair of his boxers that hug her curves in a very distracting way, and a tight white tanktop that fits her much better than it fits him, almost indecent in the way it clings to her chest.

So, he apologizes and stammers all over himself, which only makes her laugh at him. She teases him that it's only a little side-boob, and that makes him smile. But then her eyes get serious as she looks up at him, the offending hand now holding himself up over her, the other one pressed between them on her hip.

"You can touch me if you want to," she whispers. She's lying flat on her back, her hands resting on her stomach, hair splayed out around her head. He watches her chest as she breathes quickly, notices her legs squirm out of the corner of his eyes.

He nods uncertainly, places his hand on her stomach. Smiles at her sheepishly. This makes her smile, that damn coy smile that pisses him off, but always manages to turn him on because he knows she's about to _do_ something. She winds her fingers through his, lifts his hand slightly so she can slide her shirt up a little. She presses his hand flat against her bare belly, and her skin is hot under his fingers, as she shivers a little under his touch.

She stares at him intently as she lets her fingers dance across the top of his hand. He rubs his thumb along her skin, lets it graze the ridges on the top of her boxers. Her hips twitch a little at that and he sort of likes this feeling - that he has even remotely the same affect on her that she does on him. He chances a glance at her face, and she's watching him from beneath hooded eyes, biting her lip slightly, and the look on her face is ... interesting to say the least. Her cheeks are a little flushed and her breathing is becoming more labored.

He lets his hand roam a little higher, pushing her shirt up as he goes. She makes a little noise in the back of her throat, and it's probably one of the sexiest things he's ever heard. He feels something twitch somewhere in the vicinity of his stomach, and when she slides her hand over his again, guiding it further up beneath her shirt, she lets her tongue slip out and lick her lips, and he just can't look at her anymore. Instead, he focuses on their hands, on the way her legs are rubbing slightly together. He can see himself straining against his pants, and she must be able to feel him pressed against her thigh, because she presses closer to him, rubs herself against him.

He takes a deep breath, tries to stay in control of the situation. For once. She pulls his hand up to her chest, so that her shirt rides up enough that he can just see the swell of her breasts. Her head rolls back as his fingers touch her for the first time, and she arches her back, pressing herself further into his palm. Her weight shift makes him start to lose his balance (holding himself up on his hip, with his legs lying uselessly beneath him, is not the most stable position for him to be in), so he wraps the hand that is supporting him around her neck, holds himself to her until he regains his balance. She sighs at his touch, rubs her head against his hand, and he winds his fingers into her hair, holding her closer to him.

He can feel the muscles tighten in her chest as he cups her, and her hand slips off of his, grabs at his upper arm, where she digs her nails into the skin there. She's squirming beneath him now, and then her hand is wrapped around his neck, pulling his face down to her chest. He lets her pull his weight toward her, feels his hips leaning against her as he lets his lips run cautiously across her stomach. He can feel the little spasms that spread across her belly, the way her chest is heaving beneath him. He lets his tongue slip out, tastes her skin at the base of her breast. She digs her nails into his scalp and presses her lower body against him more insistently, her breaths coming in strangled puffs against his hair. He takes her into his mouth and she gasps, makes a lovely little choked sound that pulls at something in the pit of his stomach.

His free hand is digging into her hip, and then she's grasping it in hers as she tries to guide it in between them. He looks at her then, holds his hand firm against the top of the boxers. Her hips are bucking slightly against his hand and he can feel the heat radiating off of her.

"Touch me," she breathes out, her voice huskier than usual. The look in her eyes is captivating, and he lets his fingers just barely dip beneath the cotton waistband, watches her shudder against him. She shoves his hand further between them, closes her eyes and pants out a few breaths.

"Pleassssse ..." she moans, and he just about loses it right then and there. He finally lets her guide his hand to where she wants him, and she's burning against him as he lets her set the pace and show him what she likes. She's shaking now, grinding herself against him insistently, his hand trapped between their bodies as she wraps one leg around his hip and grasps at his shoulder as he works her.

When she arches against him, leg tightening uncomfortably around his waist, throwing her head back against the pillow and grunting his name out in a long sigh, she digs her nails into his shoulder blade painfully, trembling in his arms.

Sh doesn't draw blood, but he's marked as hers for the next few days, the red marks bright against his pale skin, until they slowly fade and she does it all over again.

~*~*~*~*~

Post-Author's Note: Some glimpses at what the future holds, not necessarily in order.

"The first time he lets her get him off at school, it's the day they all find out that Quinn Fabray is pregnant."

"The first time they kiss, he realizes they're doing everything backwards."

"The first time he tells someone about them, he says, 'Tina and I are sleeping together,' when what he really wanted to say was, 'Tina's been fucking me.' But he can't bring himself to say that to an adult."

"The first time someone from Glee finds out, he almost cries in relief."


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: I know it's been absolutely ages, and I really have no excuse besides real life and a severe lack of inspiration to write. I always had this story mapped out, but no actual desire to actually write it. For that, I apologize. Next time, I will wait til most of the story is written before I post any of it.

As of now, I have about 5 more chapters written, and I plan on posting a chapter a week. I only foresee the story going for another 2-3 chapters after that, so hopefully I can get those written soon after. Again, I'm sincerely sorry for the lack of updates, but I truly appreciate everyone who has read this and who has stuck with me. All of your reviews mean the world to me, and you all really are the reason I even sat down and tried to finish this at all. Thank you. :)

* * *

The first time they actually_ talk_ about their, for lack of a better word, "relationship," it's the day they all find out that Quinn Fabray is pregnant. It's not like he hadn't assumed that her and Finn were doing it (her Celibacy Club thing never fooled him), it's just that "sex" and "pregnant" were two very different things.

He's not sure why he's surprised, but when they'd all been gossiping about her strange behavior, that thought would have never occurred to him if Puck hadn't told them. The longer he lets it sink in, especially after having to see the look on Rachel's face when she finds out, the more he feels his stomach twisting, his chest tightening.

Quinn Fabray,_ his_ Quinn, his childhood friend and first love, is pregnant at sixteen. The thought unsettles him to say the least, and flat out devastates him on her behalf. He thinks back to the previous couple of weeks, how she slowly stopped smiling, how tired she seemed now that he thought about it. How … _sad_ she looked all the time.

When he feels his throat start to do that tightening thing where he feels like he can't breathe, he knows he has to get out of there. He manages to mumble out that he has to go to the bathroom, and tries his best to avoid Tina's eyes as he makes his way around the piano toward the door. Luckily for him, her and Mercedes sound like they're still deep in conversation about just how sorry they feel for Rachel. He tries really hard to make a mental note to tell Tina to IM Rachel later, just to make sure she's really is okay.

Of course, he doesn't actually go to the bathroom. He rolls himself as far away from the rehearsal room as he can manage, before he feels like he's going to suffocate. From what, exactly, he's not sure, but it sort of feels like when his little sister decides sitting on his chest is a good way to wake him up in the morning. Only worse, because his little sister really isn't that big yet.

He makes it down two hallways.

He doesn't cry. Not exactly. The harsh, erratic breathing can't be crying because he's pretty sure there are no tears. There's just pain, gripping at his chest and throat, making him double over in his chair.

And that's how she finds him – sitting in the middle of the hallway, shaking, with his head in his lap. He hears her boots squeak, but he doesn't raise his head until he's sure he's not actually crying. (He's not.) When he finally looks up, he won't meet her eye.

"Hey," he says, and his voice sounds weak and stupid, and when she doesn't say anything, he tries to continue stammering.

"I just, you know, needed some air or something. All that drama in such a small space isn't really good for my health."

He stops and chances a look at her face, and is kind of devastated that he knows her well enough to see that she's not buying a word coming out of his mouth. Except maybe the "needing air" part.

When she takes a small step toward him, his hands automatically find the security of his wheels. His escape from uncomfortable situations. (He ignores the voice in his head, correcting him that he's trying to escape from _her_. (And then he ignores the troublesome fact that he's hearing voices at all.))

"Are you okay?" she asks quietly. The way she looks at him like she just feels so bad and cares so damn much sort of makes his stomach hurt, so he shrugs indifferently at her.

"Why wouldn't I be okay? That's not my mess."

Feeling bad for him apparently doesn't stop her from rolling her eyes at him in exasperation.

"Artie," she says, part scolding, part pleading.

"Look," he bites out, getting frustrated, but mostly just embarrassed. Because he absolutely did _not_ have any reason to be this upset. "I don't know what you want from me."

She sighs heavily and then she's on her knees in front of him, grabbing his hands away from his wheels and holding them firmly in hers.

"I want you to_ talk_ to me. I want you to tell me what you're feeling –"

"Oh, so now you want to talk?" he says loudly, not even sure why he's yelling, or what he's even really saying. "When it's convenient for you? Last I checked, all you cared about was giving me a blowjob."

He manages to startle her enough with his outburst that her mouth falls open and she pulls her hands away from him like she's been burned. He takes advantage of her distraction and turns himself around quickly, wheeling himself away. But apparently, with Tina, just because he thinks the conversation is over, that doesn't mean she does.

He feels her hands slam down on his handlebars and then she's forcefully turning his chair toward her. Which he _hates_. People thinking they can do whatever they want to his chair and making him do things he doesn't want to do. But, outside of physically shoving her away from him (and he doesn't think he's really that mad), he's sort of stuck.

"How could you say that to me?" she yells in his face, bending down to his level. "How could you possibly think that's true?"

The sheer volume of her outcry, and the general fierceness of it, makes him lean back in his chair and look away from her.

"Look at me!" she cries, grabbing his face in her hands and forcing him to do something else he doesn't want to do. But, he just sighs in defeat like he always does with her, and painfully meets her eyes. She must see something in his face, because her face softens and she loosens her grip on his face, letting her thumb glide gently across his cheek.

"Artie, you're my best friend," she tells him quietly, like she's not quite sure she believes what she's saying. Honestly, he isn't sure he believes it, either. "You can tell me anything. You can _do_ anything, and I'll still be here."

He takes a deep breath at this proclamation, trying desperately not to put too much faith in those words. But he knows that's a losing battle, and all it really does is make him fall in love with her even more. And then she grabs his hands again, kneels down in front of him, so they're eye-to-eye. She takes a breath, like she's steadying herself, and he's sort of afraid of what she's going to say.

"Artie," she breathes. "If you tell me you're in love with Quinn Fabray, I will understand and I will support you."

She says it in a rush, like she's memorized it, and he can't help it. He laughs. He can really see where she may have gotten that from, but it's so far from what's actually going on. He's happy when she laughs too, and he doesn't miss the unmasked relief washing over her features.

"Of course," she says lightly, "I would have to question your sanity." She smiles at him then, rubs her thumbs over the back of his hands.

"But you can tell me. Seriously." And then she looks at him with those brown eyes peeking out from behind blue and black curtains. And he realizes that he never really stood a chance. Not since that first day in the cafeteria so long ago.

So, he tells her. Everything. About yellow dresses and tree houses, and first kisses and the loneliest few months of his life. And lastly, he tells her about that day. That day in ninth grade, his first day back at school in the After, and the girl who made it all better.

They're in an empty classroom now, glee rehearsal completely forgotten, and she's sitting on a desk in front of him, her de-booted feet in his lap. He's counting the stripes on her knee-high socks, comfortable in the brief silence that has lapsed between them. He's so distracted that he almost misses it when she whispers a question into the silent classroom.

"But you did love her?" She's not looking at him as she speaks, pretending to be interested in whatever is written on the board behind his head. He continues caressing her legs, moving her long black skirt aside as he lets his hands travel up and down. He doesn't really think at all before he answers her.

"Yes," he says, and he looks up at her as she finally meets his gaze. He's smiling pleasantly at her and he can see the confusion on her face. "Yes, I_ did_ love her. In that innocent way that kids do, the way where everything seems perfect in your head and the rest of the world doesn't matter, you know?"

She nods slowly, not sure where he's going with this. He laughs a little, a puff of air that she feels on her bare knees and that sends goosebumps up her thighs that she tries to ignore. And then she watches as his face gets serious and his eyes wander off to a time that only he can see, filled with a little boy who can still run, and the little girl who ran beside him.

"That was Before," he says softly. He reaches up and touches her around the waist, tugs on her hips until she willingly slides off the desk and into his lap, her knees barely fitting on either side of his hips.

"Before the accident," he says idly, twisting a strand of blue hair in his fingers. "Before you," he murmurs, leaning his forehead lightly against hers. She closes her eyes at his familiar touch, breathes him in. He cups her face in both of his hands and nudges her nose with his until she opens her eyes and looks at him.

"We're both different people now," he tells her quietly. "I look at her, and I can only see a sad girl who sort of looks like this other girl I once knew."

Tina considers him for a moment, remembering how upset he was, whether he'll admit or not. "Do you miss her?"

He thinks about this one longer. Tries to connect the two "hers" in his mind, and he realizes that he does.

"In a way," he says thoughtfully. "I guess I'll always love that memory of her. The way she was. Besides you, she was the best friend I ever had." His eyes go far away again, so she wipes his long hair out of his eyes, draws him back to her. He smiles at that, has a brief thought that Tina really can be a silly girl sometimes. Doesn't she know that she never has to do anything? He'll always come back to her on his own.

The next morning, Tina isn't by his locker like usual. When he finally finds her, she's sitting in the rehearsal room with Rachel, two cups of coffee in front of them, and Tina's hand on her shoulder. He wheels himself away before he overhears anything, feeling like he's intruding.

However, what he doesn't see, a couple hallways over, is the only other best friend he ever had staring at her locker. For on her locker was a little heart-shaped post-it note. And the words on that little note made Quinn Fabray smile for the first time in days.

"We're all here for you. – T"


	7. Chapter 7

The first time he sees her naked, she's crying. And he swears he'd do just about anything in the world to never have to see another tear streak her face. Things had been better between them since their "relationship talk" at school that day. He felt like they were much more of a "we" than they had ever been, much more deserving of that word, "relationship." For the first time since this whole thing started, he felt like it was something they were doing together, and not just something she was doing to him.

But, he couldn't help but be very aware of the fact that they hadn't kissed yet. Sure, their lips had brushed lightly a few times, and they'd kissed each other all over their bodies, but they still hadn't really _kissed_ yet. Full-on, lips-touching-lips kissed. He couldn't explain it, but somehow, a stupid little kiss seemed much more intimate than everything they'd done so far. Maybe because they hadn't identified exactly what "this" was, and a kiss would sort of define it for them. Whatever the reason, and whether it was due to him or her he was unsure, but it just hadn't happened.

He didn't know what to make of it, either. It didn't bother him necessarily. It was just sort of there in the background whenever they were together. It was almost as if they were avoiding it at this point, both careful and all too aware of the one thing they hadn't done yet. (Well, besides the other, big thing, of course.)

Besides the carefully avoided kissing thing, though, things were great. She was over at his place almost every night, managing to sleep over more than ever. It was close to the holidays, so her parents were both particularly busy. Her father was at his office more and more, trying to see all of his patients before he took his holiday vacation. He also had an office in the next town over, so there were several nights when he stayed at a motel over there. And her mother's social schedule was at its busiest, as well, with parties and benefits and balls taking up most of her free time. So, Tina found herself alone most of the time these days. Needless to say, despite their relationship going pretty well, Tina was having a rough couple months.

She was used to it, she'd always say. After all, they'd been leaving her home alone since she was 13, after her grandmother was too sick to make the 45 minute trip to watch her. (May she rest in peace.) So, understandably, she'd been spending much of her free time at his house. And not just sneaking around, either. Tina's mom had called Mrs. Abrams and asked her to keep an eye on Tina, seeing as how she was over there so much anyway. And, as luck would have it, Mrs. Abrams liked nothing more than having another person to keep an eye on. She liked the idea so much, that Tina was invited over for dinner every night her parents weren't home, and she was often invited to sleep over and to stay in Jack's old room.

While she made sure she was back in there by morning, she never once slept in Jack's room.

So, it was a bit jarring when three days passed and she hadn't been over. She'd texted him a couple times, told him that both her parents were randomly home and that they were insisting on family time. He'd tried calling her a few times, but he'd always get her voicemail, followed by a text that said she was too busy to talk. Finally, on the fourth day, he got a text with some information. Only it wasn't from Tina.

It was from Kurt.

"so what's going on with asian fusion? mercedes says she saw them at breadstix with their parents. are they related or getting married? lol."

He stared at the text for several minutes. None of it made sense. He responded with his questions and felt his stomach drop when Kurt informed him of what "Asian Fusion" meant.

"mike and tina. at dinner with their parents?"

Everything started moving in slow motion. Why wouldn't Tina tell him that she was friends with Mike or that she knew his parents? Why wouldn't she tell him that they were going to dinner? They couldn't be related. Surely she would have told him that.

Several irrational and unreasonable thoughts started racing through his head all at once, each more ridiculous and terrifying than the next. _Don't panic_, he told himself. There has to be a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this. He texted Tina quickly, asked her if she was, in fact, out to dinner with Mike Chang. He worded his message very carefully, trying to sound casual and not accusatory. Just curious. Inside, of course, he was dying.

The hours of the evening slipped by and she never responded. His thoughts started getting crazier by the minute. What if she never texted him again? What if she realized how attractive Mike was, especially compared to him? What if (oh God), she danced with him … And realized that he couldn't give her something so simple as a first dance?

When his mother starts hovering over him and asking questions ("Have you heard from Tina today? Why are you sitting in the dark?"), he shuts the book he'd been badly pretending to read and rolls toward his room. If he hadn't been so preoccupied with his dark thoughts, he would have remembered that he hadn't shut his bedroom door earlier.

There she is, standing in front of his dresser mirror, staring at her tear-streaked reflection. He's so relieved and shocked to see her, like a dying man getting his first taste of water in days, that he doesn't notice anything wrong at first. And then he blinks and realizes that she's standing in front of his mirror, completely naked.

He sees her in profile, his bathroom light bleeding in form the other side of the room, throwing shadows on her bare body. If she were a nude painting, he would have said it was tasteful. But this wasn't a painting or his imagination. This was his girlfriend (for lack of a better word), standing in front of him, completely broken and vulnerable, and he had no idea what to do for her. He's not even sure she's aware he's there until she speaks.

"I was waiting for you," she says numbly. She turns her head toward him, trying to force a small smile for him. "Surprise," she whispers, gesturing shyly to herself.

"What's wrong?" he asks her, the words out of his mouth before he can stop them. He can see her falter even more, watches her face crumble a little. But his concern is quickly outweighing his manners or his tact. Because this girl standing in front of him is not the same one that he last saw four days ago.

"What happened?" he asks again when she doesn't answer.

She looks back at the mirror, that strange calm returning to her face, as the tears continue to fall silently and perfectly down her cheeks.

"I thought this is what you wanted," she says softly.

He's next to her now, not even sure when he moved, but he reaches for her then, touches her hand, and is startled when she pulls away from him. She faces him, though, and he has to strain his neck to look up at her face because she's so close to him. He tells her that she's all he ever wanted, but that they need to talk. She needs to talk to him.

"Look at me," she tells him blankly. He quirks his brow in confusion. He is looking at her.

"No, look at all of me."

He hesitates, but can see that she won't talk to him until he does. This is not what he imagined for this moment. Not at all. He was going to strip her of her clothes one article at a time. Probably fumble with her bra if she was wearing one. And then he was going to breathe her in, relish the image in front of him. Tell her how beautiful she was. Tell her that he loved her …

He lets his eyes drop to her neck and he slowly eases them down lower, feeling like he's being tortured the whole time. He lets his eyes fall all the way to her feet, and she _was_ beautiful, even in her despair.

He reaches for her again, places his hands lightly on hers. She doesn't pull away this time. So, he pulls her to him, pulls her into his lap, where she immediately curls into him, tucks her knees against his chest and buries her face in his neck. She's shaking now, sobbing in earnest, and he's so relieved to see that the terrifying blankness is gone from her face. Now, she's just a broken girl clinging to him desperately in his arms. And while he shushes her and strokes her hair and rocks her the best he can manage, one question keeps going through his mind.

_"What's wrong?"_

* * *

Author's Note: Sorry to leave you hanging. It's not as bad as you're probably thinking. I'll post the next chapter sooner rather than later. :)


	8. Chapter 8

The first time they kiss, he realizes they're doing everything backwards. They're doing everything wrong. Except somehow, looking back, he always knew it'd be this way. Two messed up people trying to make something normal and beautiful out of the mess they'd made for themselves.

He'd managed to get them over to the bed, but as he tries to move her toward it, she shakes her head against his neck, clings to him even tighter. He assures her that she'll be okay, that he's not going anywhere. But, God, he needs her to_ talk_ to him. He needs to know what's going on, preferably after she puts some clothes on because, really, he's only human.

He says her name and then he says it again. Calls her "sweetie" and it sounds strange and foreign coming out of his mouth, but he wants her to know that she's safe with him, and isn't that the sort of thing you call your sort-of-girlfriend-and-love-of-your-life person anyway? He wants her to know that this room is her sanctuary, just like it has been for the past year.

He hates what he's about to say, but it's been screaming at him in the back of his mind since he first saw her. It's the only thing he has to go on and she's still not saying anything.

"Did Mike … do something?" He whispers the last part, a prayer that he's way off base. And he's beyond relieved when she chokes out a "no."

"He was wonderful," she mumbles into his neck, stumbling over the last word so much that it takes him a couple seconds to realize what she even said.

"Wonderful?" he manages, not sure if that makes him feel better or worse. She nods shakily, and he pulls away from her slightly, tries to see her face. She lets him move away from her, looks at him through still-wet eyes, but he can see the worst of it has passed.

He starts to ask her what happened (again), but she continues without much prompting, says he defended her.

"From who?"

"_Them_."

The faraway look comes back and he thinks he understands.

"Your parents?"

She nods, looks down and sniffles a little more. All he can do is shake his head to himself, his mind racing, trying to think of what they could have possibly done to make her act this way. (And, despite himself, trying to figure out when and how Mike Chang came into the situation.)

He pushes her a little more away from him, positions her on the bed in front of him, where she folds in on herself, pulling her knees to her chest and holding them tightly against her. And she looks so small and fragile and he feels his eyes stinging at the sight of her – his Tina, his feisty vampire of a girlfriend, reduced to the trembling little girl in front of him.

He pulls the blankets up around her shoulders, wraps them all the way around her and rubs her arms through the thick fabric. And then he asks her (again and for the last time) what happened.

She starts slow and careful, but as she goes on, she gets more sure of herself, and now that she's looking back on it, seems to be getting more angry than anything.

It seems that Tina's parents had been close friends with Mike's parents for years, but though they'd been forced together on a couple of occasions, Tina and Mike mostly ignored each other. Until, of course, he joined the Glee Club.

Artie tries to ignore the growing unease in his stomach as she talks about how they started becoming friends, and that part of the reason Mike joined Glee in the first place was because of her. His parents had apparently been hounding him for weeks before he finally joined with Puck a few weeks ago.

But then, when her parents both surprised her by being home for more than a few days at a time, all they wanted to do was spend time with Mike's family. They even wanted Tina to hang out with Mike alone, so they could "get to know each other better." And that's when she started getting suspicious.

It was at Breadstix that everything came out. How _happy_ they would all be if their children were together. How _perfect_ they were for each other. How their families in Korea would just be so_ thrilled_. How she wouldn't even have to change her name when they got married!

As the conversation went on and on, she felt herself start to panic and go cold inside. She looked to Mike for help, but he only looked down at his lap, his shoulders slumped in embarrassment and defeat. He'd already given in. But, unlike her, he had nothing (no one) to fight for.

So she told them no. That Mike was great and nice, but that she wasn't interested in him as anything but a friend, and to her relief, he quickly chimed in and agreed.

"Well, that's nonsense! You two were made for each other! You'll learn to love each other over time."

She could feel her panic rising. They weren't listening to them. She knew her parents weren't going to take no for an answer. They'd started going on and on about how their own marriage was arranged and that they weren't happy about it at first either. But now look at them! Look how happy and in love they were!

She wasn't listening anymore. Mike's eyes had widened at the same time hers had. At the word "marriage." They tried to tell them that that wasn't going to happen, that it just wasn't done anymore. That it was ridiculous and unnecessary. But it was as if they weren't hearing them at all. They were practically already making wedding arrangements.

"It's not going to happen tomorrow, for goodness sakes! Obviously, you'll both have to finish school, and Mike will have law school …"

On and on it went, and all her and Mike could do was stare at each other in horror. Finally, she managed to ask the real question that had been on her mind this whole time.

"What if I want to marry someone else?"

And it was the knowing look that passed between her parents that made everything click into place. This whole thing, this whole messed up situation, was because of Artie. They'd noticed all the time she'd been spending with him, how her face lit up when she talked about him. How he was ruining all of their plans.

"Darling, that_ boy_ - he's just not right for you."

"Can you really see yourself with him in the long run?"

"He can't have much of a future or a career."

"He probably can't even have children."

Of course, she didn't go into detail about what all was exactly said, but he could imagine. It was all of the things he'd been thinking for months. Every reason why he wasn't good enough for her, laid out in front of her. And in front of Mike Chang. But she didn't give him time to dwell on that, because on that night, as she got smaller and smaller, Mike Chang got angrier and angrier.

He stopped the conversation with one word, one word full of such force and anger, that everyone shut their mouths abruptly.

"_Stop_."

Five pairs of stunned eyes turned to him, four in shock and one in utmost gratitude.

"Stop it," he continued firmly. "Stop talking to us like we're children. Stop acting like you have any control over who we choose to be with, and _stop_ talking about Artie like that."

The table sat in stunned silence as Tina felt a small smile creeping onto her face. But then, Mike Chang got even more wonderful.

"Artie is a great guy, okay? He's a hell of a lot nicer than I am, probably smarter, too. When everyone, including me, was making fun of Tina about her stutter, Artie was her only friend."

His mother had started sniffling into her napkin, but he didn't seem to notice.

"If anyone's made for Tina, it's Artie. And if he's the lucky guy she wants to be with, I think you should all be happy for her."

He slammed his drink on the table, got to his feet, and held his hand out to her. They weren't going to sit at that table another second. And when she grabbed his hand, it was like he was a life line, pulling her back to reality with him.

They'd walked around for a couple hours before he walked her home. As he left, she'd felt such a huge amount of respect and affection for him. She knew he'd make a wonderful boyfriend for the right girl.

As she happily walked through the front door, she wasn't prepared for them to be waiting for her. Wasn't prepared for the bag of her things to be by the door. Wasn't prepared for all of the awful things they said about him and about them. Wasn't ready when they demanded that she stop seeing him and quit Glee immediately.

But when it came time to choose, to stand up to them, she pictured Mike. Wonderful Mike, standing up to them earlier that night. Doing it for her.

She turned around and walked away from them without a word. Grabbed her bag and wondered numbly what clothes they packed for her. She slowly made her way to Artie's house in a daze, crying the whole way. She automatically went to climb in his room through the window, partly out of habit but also because she wasn't ready to face anyone yet. Then she stripped off her heavy clothes from her body and headed for his shower.

And that's when she fell apart. When she saw the devastated image of herself in his dresser mirror. When she cried so much and hurt so badly that she felt like she was being physically torn apart. She doesn't know how long she was there, because at some point, it's like she blacked out or something. Like her mind and body completely shut down. Like she was lost to the world.

Until he found her. Until he brought her back and put her back together. Like he'd been doing since the first day they met.

And now she's looking at him in a way she never quite has before, like she's just fully comprehending what he's been feeling for months. She looks at him like he's her salvation.

So when he grabs her face and carefully touches his lips to hers for the first time, she knows she made the right decision. And when she wraps her tiny arms around him, kisses him more firmly and with such certainty, he knows that he wants to stay in her arms forever.


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note: This is another racy chapter - no worse than what I've already written so far, but I still felt I should post a warning. If you want to skip this chapter, you probably won't miss too much actual plot. :)

* * *

The first time they have sex is the first time they kiss. They both knew this was coming. You can only get so many blowjobs before you start to realize sex is most likely in your near future. He just didn't realize it would be this near in his future. Or, more accurately, he didn't realize they'd go this long without actually kissing. So long that when they finally did, it would inevitably lead right to this.

"This" being her naked body pressed firmly against his chest. His button-up shirt suddenly feels too tight on him, collar too close to his neck. She apparently agrees because her hands are pulling quite insistently at it.

He chuckles lightly in to her mouth, feels her smile coyly against his. He reaches up, stills her hands against his chest. Of course, she's seen him practically naked before. Stripped down to his boxers, holding him in her hand. But with the kissing and the way she's trying to rip his shirt open, he can't help but think about where this is going, and that maybe things are all of a sudden moving much too fast.

He pulls away from her, keeping their faces close together, his forehead pressing lightly against hers. Asks her if she knows what she's doing.

"Come on," she purrs. She knew this was coming. Didn't he? When she presses her lips to his again, it's like they're melting in to each other. Like his mouth was designed for the sole purpose of kissing her and only her. Always. Her lips are soft but firm against his, and when she flicks her tongue out to meet his, it's the sweetest thing he's ever tasted. It's a mixture of the cinnamon gum she was chewing earlier and something else that he supposes is just her.

It's … wonderful. Kissing her. He can't believe he waited this long, but they were both so comfortable with her taking the lead for so long. It honestly hadn't occurred to him to even really try. Well, obviously it had occurred to him. He couldn't even look at her nowadays without daydreaming about taking her in his arms. But it was all just that – daydreaming. He honestly didn't think this thing was ever going to last this long. He thought for sure she would've been scared off by now.

And yet here she was, in his arms. Letting him kiss her like he's always wanted. Except now she's pulling at his shirt again, and he's pretty sure he's going to have to either put a stop to this now, or get his head around the fact that he's about to lose his virginity.

Yeah, that wasn't really ever going to be a hard decision. He lets her undo the top buttons but then he just raises his arms and lets her rip it off over his head. He only stops kissing her when the shirt actually passes over his face, which makes her giggle against his mouth. And he's trying to concentrate as much as he can, on the sound of her laughter. On the feel of her skin against his rough hands. The way she's arching her back, trying to get as close to him as possible. But concentrating on anything other than the feel of her against him is getting harder and harder.

"Why are you still in that chair?" she mumbles in to his neck, as she scoots over on the bed, making enough room for him to join her.

"Because you're a bed hog," he says, trying to continue kissing her while she keeps moving farther away. She's on her knees, leaning toward him now, and even in the slightly awkward position, he still thinks she's a vision, with her dark hair a mess around her beautiful face. That damn blue streak even more striking against her bare shoulders.

She unbuckles the strap around his waist, and he leans down quickly to unstrap his ankles from the stupid chair. She's already wrapping her arms around his waist and pulling him toward her, a playful smile on her mouth. It's one of the first times that little smile hasn't managed to piss him off. He leans as far forward as he can, bracing his arms to bear the weight of his dead legs.

"You ready?" she breathes in to his ear, and he knows she means more than just their current maneuvering. He nods quickly and before he knows it he's stumbling in to her, face clumsily buried directly in her boobs as he struggles to keep his upper half on the bed. He wraps his arms instinctively around her waist, lets her reach around him and grab his pants leg, hoisting it not-so-gracefully on to the bed.

They're both torn between catching their breath and laughing hysterically, they're such a mess of limbs right now. But she's already pulling his legs straight and unbuckling his belt before he's even had a chance to catch his breath. May as well get rid of these, she argues. His boxers are quickly thrown over her shoulder with a flourish.

And then she's slowly lowering herself over him, keeping eye contact the entire time. He's not sure when, but at some point he forgets to breathe. He only notices when he has to take in a huge breath right as her face is hovering near his. She just laughs in to his throat, but stops just as quickly. There's nothing really funny about this anymore. Maybe there never was.

Her hair has fallen in her face, and he reaches out like he has a dozen times before. Tucks it back behind her ear, the familiar gesture making his chest tighten in a way that is also becoming all too familiar. The more she entwines herself in to his life, in to his being, the more painful it is to imagine going through life without her. At this point, he literally doesn't know if he could.

He can feel the entire length of her chest resting on top of him, her small breasts pushed tightly in to his own chest, the sensation entirely new and unfamiliar, yet thoroughly and completely_ right_ all at the same time. Like the contours of his torso were made to fit hers perfectly.

He has to glance over her shoulder briefly, though, just to see the rest of their bodies pressed together, too. Her legs are on either side of him, pressed tightly against his own, knees slightly bent and pressing in to the mattress on either side of him. She must notice his gaze, because she glances over her shoulder, as well. When her eyes find his again, he smiles sheepishly, embarrassed at his need to see it for himself. He tries to explain it to her. That for him to do this, he needs to be able to picture it.

She shushes him with a soft kiss to his lips.

"You don't have to explain yourself to me," she whispers. She doesn't know what she's doing either. They'll just have to watch and learn together.

She raises herself up a little, moves her shoulder to give him a clearer view. He looks between their bodies, sees her hips hovering just over his own. And then she's rubbing herself against him, her body quivering with anticipation as she lets out a little moan. He feels his whole body tighten, the warm feeling just below his belly button spreading all the way up his stomach and into his chest. She touches tiny fingers against the sensitive spot on his lower abdomen, right above his hips where he can feel it. It sends a tingly sensation all the way to his fingertips and the sound that escapes his throat would have embarrassed him, except that he doesn't think he's capable of any feelings right now other than blinding arousal and need.

When she finally lowers herself on to him, he can't help but wish, just for this one moment, that he could feel that particular sensation. Of sliding in to her and feeling her tighten around him. The look on her face almost undoes him – eyes shut in complete and utter satisfaction, pinched only the slightest with discomfort. Honestly, they've done so much other stuff he's only a little surprised that she doesn't seem to be more uncomfortable.

She's still for a couple moments, letting herself adjust to the feel of him. He has a vague sensation of something building in his gut, but it's like it's below the surface somehow. Like it's almost there but not quite. His hands linger lightly on her thighs, itching to grasp her more firmly, move her hips against his. But he waits for her signal. Doesn't want to rush her.

When she finally opens her eyes, her gaze is intense but steady. She leans forward, low enough that her chest is pressed against his again. The shift in angle makes these wonderful little sounds escape her mouth. He buries them with his own, grabbing her face and kissing her more fiercely than he has all night. Her little hands hold his face tightly to hers as he lets his own wander over her shoulders, up and down her arms, down her bare back. He settles them on her hips, squeezes lightly but lets her set the pace.

He loses track of time and everything that's not Tina and this moment. He has no real comprehension of how long it lasts, except that he's sure it's longer than most virgins his age. Pretty much the only positive of his particular situation. But when they're both spent and exhausted, her naked body slumped limply against his chest, head buried in to his neck, his only coherent thought is that he never wants tomorrow to come. He just wants to stay here with her, in this bed and in this moment, for the rest of his life. Was that really too much to ask?


	10. Chapter 10

Author's Note: I know some people have strong opinions about Quinn, so I wanted to let you know that this is a Quinn-heavy chapter. It didn't really start out that way, but that's just how it ended up. It's not romantic at all, I don't think, but if you're not interested in this particular part of the story, you can feel free to skip this chapter, and you won't miss too much of the Artie/Tina plot.

* * *

The first time she lets him hold her hand in public, it's just in front of a Glee kid, but he knows it's still a big deal. It's only a week or so after their first time. Yes, "first time" because in those few days, there had certainly been more times. Four to be exact. Not that he was keeping track or anything. But it seemed that now that the seal had been broken, there was nothing seemingly holding them back. If they were inseparable before, they were practically attached to each other now. Always touching whenever they were in reach of each other. A hand on her hip here, a graze against his cheek there. Not to mention that she's pretty much been living in his bed since that night. Which, with his mom seeming like she was always around or poking her head in, made him _extremely_ nervous and almost made him wish she didn't spend every night wrapped tightly around his body. Almost.

But with all the touching they did in private, they did absolutely nothing of the sort in public. On occasion, she'd let her head rest on his shoulder if they were hanging out at his house, since his parents obviously assumed they were dating at this point. But they also seemed to assume that they weren't exactly open about it, because they never asked direct questions and whenever some of the other Glee kids were over for movie night or something, they never said anything incriminating in front of them either.

He never directly asked her why they were keeping it a secret. He convinced himself that it was just to avoid more drama in their fragile little club. With the baby fiasco already causing severe riffs amongst their little group, it was easy for him to rationalize that adding another complicated relationship to the mix was just plain stupid.

Some of them knew, of course. Everyone suspected that they liked each other, but only a couple people knew that it was more than that. Mike had already pretty much figured it out, but after the Breadstix disaster, he and Tina had actually become better friends than ever. And while he wasn't entirely okay with this new development, he was so grateful to Mike for what he'd done for Tina that he couldn't hold any actual resentment toward him. Plus, he was turning out to be a really nice guy and a potential friend. Tina never clarified exactly what she did tell him, but he did know that Mike was well aware that they were more than just friends and that the others didn't know. He never said a word to anyone.

In fact, after a few days, he got his parents to talk to Tina's and convince them to let her move back in. She refused at first, but with both him and Mike calmly explaining to her why she couldn't live with Artie when they were … you know … she finally agreed to go back. But she was not happy with either of them about it.

The other person who had surprisingly figured it out was the Queen of Baby Drama herself: Quinn. He supposed he wasn't surprised. Not really. He knew something was wrong with her way before the truth about her being pregnant came out. It wasn't a stretch that she still had a similar insight to his feelings, as well. He's not sure when exactly he realized that she knew. It was little glances from her here and there. Little smiles when she caught him looking at Tina. The one time they risked a clandestine kiss in the supply closet while retrieving instruments, and Quinn very loudly claimed she was having labor cramps right as Finn and Rachel started to come in. It was the little wink she threw his way after rehearsal that confirmed it. And it was the sad little smile that followed it that made his stomach twist guiltily.

They only talked about it once, and it was such a veiled conversation, he had to think about it for several minutes afterward before he decided it really was about him and Tina. It was when they did the ballad assignment together. Tina had been partnered with Mike (and no, he swears that didn't bother him at all, nope, not one bit) and he'd been unfortunate enough to get the one person in Glee Club he actually had a history with. As they all split off to work on their assignments, Tina had glanced at him quickly, raised her eyes questioningly. _Are you okay?_

He nods quickly at her, shrugs like, "What can you do?" But she still keeps a watchful eye on them all throughout rehearsal. Just in case she might have to come cut a bitch, he guesses. It makes him smile to himself.

Quinn asks him if he has any songs in mind. He doesn't know. She's probably better at this stuff, right? She shrugs. She's not good at too much these days. The silence after that borders closely on uncomfortable. She supposes he would have rather been paired with someone else. Nah, he insists. Not really.

"Well, except Tina, obviously," she says matter-of-factly.

"Yeah," he squirms in his chair. "I guess."

"I would've wanted to be with Finn, of course," she says, in that very careful way she must practice in front of the mirror. At least, that's the only way he figures she could get her voice to sound so refined and completely unlike herself. She smooths her skirt down on her lap, lets her hands linger over her belly. He can't help it. He stares.

"It's a girl," she whispers. He looks at her face then. It's the first time she's talked to him directly about the baby. And it's the first time he's heard her voice sound like that in years. He nods. Tells her that he had heard that.

"Is that good?" he asks carefully. She shrugs, hands idly drawing circles on her stomach. She supposes.

He suddenly pictures a little girl in his head, with Quinn's nose and blonde curls around her face. She's wearing yellow.

He shakes the image out of his head and the movement brings her out of her reverie. She looks around the room quickly before scooting her chair closer to him. When she speaks, it's even more of a whisper than before.

"I mean, I can't keep it, can I?"

And her eyes are piercing his, wide and scared and pleading. And he has absolutely no idea what to do or say. He actually looks around instinctively, assuming she must be talking to someone else or that this moment is a complete figment of his imagination. They've barely spoken two sentences to each other since she joined the club.

But she's still looking at him, her face coming dangerously close to crumbling. He recognizes the tell-tale tremble of her chin.

"Hey," he says softly, and he reaches out for her, chancing a glance around to make sure no one is paying attention. Even Tina is busy at the piano, with Mike talking quickly as he leafs through some sheet music. Once he's sure that no one is paying attention, he settles his hand on her knee, and she grabs it like it's a life line, her other hand still clutching her middle tightly.

"Do you _want_ to keep her?" he says, making the conscious decision to use the proper word. Whether she gives it up or not, she's going to give birth to a little girl either way.

"No," she breathes out, chuckling almost to herself, like it's the most ridiculous thing she's ever heard. "Of course not." That last sentence has that refined lilt to it that he just can't get used to. But he nods. Says okay.

She looks down and realizes she's still clutching his hand. She releases it quickly, like she's startled to find it in her lap.

"I'm sorry," she says. "I know you don't care about any of this."

The words sting him more than they should. He has a brief wave of anger, but she still has that scared look in her eyes, and he realizes he still can't stay mad at her. Even after all this time. She just always looks so damn sad.

"Quinn," he says, and the name sounds so foreign on his tongue, even though it was the only one that mattered for so long.

"I care."

She maintains eye contact for only a couple seconds before she looks down and closes her eyes. Her fingers catch the tear before it can fall down her cheek. She starts to shake her head, the word "no" forming on her lips.

"Quinn," he says again, more firmly this time. It's amazing how much easier it is after that first time.

"I've never stopped caring about you." The steadiness in which he says it, the clarity, surprises even him. He didn't realize it until this moment, but it's true. She was his best friend. His first crush. And then something terrible happened (to both of them really) and none of it was her fault. Not really. When he was alone, it was a lot harder to see that. He glances back over at Tina. Everything seemed easier now.

She's looking at him again, and she reaches over and grabs his hand tightly in hers again.

"Thank you," she says so softly he almost doesn't hear it at all. And then she's releasing him and straightening herself up again. Dress flattened, hair smoothed back and tucked primly behind a headband that rests just so on her head. She takes a steadying breath and her face is a mask again. She glances around the room, eyes settling briefly on Finn and then, to his confusion, Puck.

"No one saw," he tells her. She nods with a smile.

"The good thing about being in show choir - everyone is so self-involved they don't pay attention to anyone else most of the time," she says with a little laugh.

He can't help it. He smiles at that because it's true for the most part. Well, except if there's a pregnancy scandal or a new relationship to dissect.

"The other thing about show choir, though," she goes on slowly, thoughtfully. "Everyone loves a little drama." She glances over to him knowingly.

"Everyone acts like they don't notice that Rachel is in love with Finn." She says it so calmly that he thinks he must've misheard her at first. But she continues before he can question her.

"They even act like they don't know that he's in love with her, too." She's watching Rachel, now, as she babbles incessantly at the back of Mr. Schue's head while he keeps walking away from her. Quinn's voice stays steady, but he can almost hear the cracks just beneath the surface.

"Everyone acts like they don't already know how this story goes. That he stays with me because I'm pregnant, and I let him because I'm too scared to go through it alone. And that when all this settles down, and there's no more baby, he'll eventually leave me and she'll be waiting with open arms."

By the end, she's speaking in a monotone, eyes gazing blankly ahead, possibly in to this bleak future that she's imagined for herself. He doesn't know what to say.

"Quinn," he says again. He's said it more times in this conversation than he has in the past several years.

"My point," she goes on, and she's back to the New Quinn, the one he has trouble looking at too closely. "Is that this club may act like they don't know what's really going on, but most of them do." She looks at him now, hazel eyes on blue.

"So, if you don't want everyone knowing your business, it's probably best not to do anything that would warrant their interest." She raises her eyebrows at him, and she ticks her eyes so quickly in Tina's direction that he's not even sure that's what she was really looking at.

Mr. Schue calls rehearsal to a close just then, says they can keep working on their own time or at the next meeting. Quinn sighs slightly, looks down at her belly again.

"Well, we certainly got nothing accomplished," he chuckles lightly.

"Yeah, I guess we'll have to do all our work next time," she says, but there's something else in the statement. A question.

He hesitates only briefly before asking her if she wants to come over some time and work on it. She hesitates even less when she agrees.

He and Tina are always the last to leave the choir room. With his chair, it's just easier to maneuver once the room is empty. But today, Quinn's still out in the hall when they leave. After going a full hour in rehearsal, she always has to use the restroom immediately afterward these days. She's just stepped in to the hall when she spots them. They smile and wave their goodbyes, but as they move past her, Tina walking beside his chair as she's taken to doing lately, he glances back at Quinn one last time, and gets to see her real smile for the first time in ages. The one that reaches her eyes.

When he finally accepts that she was indeed talking about them, he reaches up and holds Tina's hand in his own. She looks down at him quickly and then back in Quinn's direction, but she's already turned around and started in the other direction. Tina can't see the smile that is still playing on her lips. Doesn't know that she saw everything. Knows everything.

The next time he holds her hand, it's during a glee rehearsal. No one is paying particular attention to them, but if any of them looked their way, they would've seen. They might not have thought too much about it even. But he doesn't care about any of that. The only thing he cares about is that Tina lets him. And she blushes.

He could get used to this.

It's a few days later when she finds it in her locker. A newborn onesie. She doesn't need to read the note to know who it's from. It's for the hospital, he wrote. For the one day that she'll be hers.

It was yellow.


	11. Chapter 11

The first time they go on a date, he thinks she's just walking him home. Her hot-and-cold behavior had pretty much calmed down since they took their relationship to the next level a few weeks back. He tries not to think about their relationship in terms of levels for the most part – he gets too confused and starts thinking about lateral movements and tangents and going backwards. It just doesn't follow a normal relationship progression, so it's impossible to track. Hell, they're pretty much impossible to track, too.

He knew this would happen, but he still gets anxious whenever he finds her lying naked in his bed. And it's not just an occasional thing. Every time she's over, even when she's not spending the night, she ends up naked in his bed. He still stresses out over the memory of a lazy afternoon, her bare legs straddling him in his chair at the foot of the bed, and her gleeful refusal to let him go lock the door. He could hear his little sister laughing just down the hall.

Not that he had a problem with having so much sex. That would be crazy talk. He was a teenage boy, after all. So while he may or may not be having some issues with the implications of their current sexual shenanigans, every part of him fully enjoyed the actual sex part of the situation. It was the in-between parts that were complicated. The afters and befores.

Like, she was never too much of a talker to begin with. Sure, they had conversations about random things and every once in a while they had what could pass as a "relationship talk." Well, sort of anyway. But for the most part, it's not like they sat around talking about their feelings for each other or their life aspirations and whatnot.

Well, if he thought they didn't communicate all that well before, they down-right sucked at it now. Now that sex is an option, it's all she wants to do. She literally can't step one foot inside his room without immediately jumping on him or stripping down to her underwear (which have gotten more and more interesting lately, too). Now, he supposes that if it really came down to it, and he had the option, he'd want to have sex all the time, too. Who wouldn't? But it's just … not normal.

So, after a few weeks of blissful coupledom (sort of), they were right back to the not-normal of it all. Back to her shutting him out unless he was literally inside her. And even then, it sometimes felt like she wasn't really there at all. She'd stopped looking at him. Not all the time, of course. Only when it counted. When they would have been otherwise intimate, if not for the distance she created between them. She'd shut her eyes tight, or focus on a spot just to the left of his face. He'd try to reach her. Would touch her face gently, try to force her to look at him. But she always maneuvered her way out of it. Would grab his face and kiss him deeply, or start nibbling at his ear, or do something else equally distracting.

It wasn't until glee practice one day when he realized something may actually be wrong. When she chose to sit next to Mercedes and Kurt instead of their usual seats in the back. It was a little thing, he knew. It didn't even necessarily mean anything. The three of them could have been having a deep conversation right before for all he knew. But he couldn't help the sick feeling that had started to gnaw at him on the inside. The stinging in his eyes that he blinked away furiously. Why did everything hurt so much more when she did it?

He thought about just joining them, even though she'd positioned herself carefully in between the other two. But just as he was about to roll himself over there, a flash of yellow caught his eye. Quinn was sitting off to the side of the group, away from the others. Definitely away from Finn. And Puck. And Rachel.

It was just last week that everything came out about the baby. About how it was Puck's. About how she'd lied to Finn for months. He hadn't been able to look at her for a couple days after that, imagining himself in Finn's shoes. If Tina had done that to him. That Quinn really was the mean girl he'd heard about.

But in one of their rare full-blown conversations lately, Tina had calmly explained how Quinn was probably feeling. How scared she must have been. How humiliated she would have felt. How alone she really was.

So, he'd called her. Asked her if she wanted to come over and watch a movie. She'd put him off, but they'd ended up talking for almost an hour, about the most random and insignificant things. About Kurt's insane fashion choices. Which songs they wanted to do in Glee. Ms. Pilsbury's very obvious crush on Mr. Schue. But she was staying at Puck's now, and his mother had called her for dinner. She whispered that she hated it there before hanging up and leaving him with an ache in his stomach for the rest of the day.

And now she was staring at him, a small understanding smile on her lips. She rolls her eyes in Tina's direction, shrugs her shoulders slightly like _Girls, huh?_ And then she reaches over and pushes away the chair that was next to her.

He only hesitates long enough to glance at Tina and see her very carefully avoiding his eyes. He ignores the curious glances from both Finn and Puck (and probably everyone else), as he rolls himself next to her and smiles at her gratefully. Just before Mr. Schue calls rehearsal to a start, she leans over and whispers that whatever it is, Tina'll get over it.

He nods like he believes her, but since he doesn't even know what "it" is, he's not so sure.

To his surprise, Tina waits for him after rehearsal like she always does. Silently walks over and slings her backpack over his own on his handlebars like she always does. Walks behind him just as silently while they make their way out of the music room.

He doesn't want to say anything. Wants to make her speak first. But he's never been good at this game they play.

"Are you mad at me or something?"

It comes out a lot more pathetic than he'd like. Like he's begging her for something. He supposes he always is.

"Just because I sat with Kurt and Mercedes?" she asks, like he's being ridiculous.

He tries to explain it to her. That it feels like she's been avoiding him.

"Avoiding you?" she laughs. "Artie, I had sex with you just last night."

He knows. But it feels different. Like she's just going through the motions or something. He doesn't say that to her though. Because that would make this conversation even more awkward.

"Look," she explains. "I've just been really stressed lately. With my parents and school, and now this –" she gestures vaguely between them. "It's just a lot."

He feels his stomach twist uncomfortably, can almost hear the next words out of her mouth. That something has to give. That she can't handle it all. And he knows what she'd choose to give up.

But she doesn't say anything like that. Just tells him not to worry about it.

When they get to his street, where they normally would turn right to get to his house, she keeps pushing him straight ahead. He asks her where they're going, but she just tells him not to worry. Again.

They end up a few streets over, and to his surprise, she's pushing him in to the pizza place on the corner. He raises his eyebrows at her. They never go out anywhere, at least not just the two of them. They'll occasionally meet Kurt and Mercedes somewhere, sometimes even Rachel tags along, but they never do anything that even remotely might resemble a date. It was sort of unspoken. A date would make this thing even murkier. They'd have to admit that they were "dating." That he was her "boyfriend."

But she only shrugs at him. Says she's just hungry.

So, they order their favorite pizza (they frequently order delivery), and they talk. Talk about everything they haven't talked about in the last couple weeks. He tells her about Quinn living with Puck, and she tells him about Finn and Rachel dating over Christmas break and it falling apart just as quickly as it started. About how they both think Brittany and Santana may or may not be completely in love with each other.

It's almost like it used to be.

When they've eaten their entire pizza (he loves that she's not afraid to pig out in front of him like most girls), he suggests they should do it again some time. That it was nice.

She just laughs, tells him he needs to work on his pick up lines.

But she does let him pay. And he thinks he can officially call it a date, even if only to himself.


	12. Chapter 12

The first time one of their friends finds out, he almost cries in relief. Yes, Mike knew kind of out of necessity, and Quinn admitted she knew, as well. But they were different. They weren't one of "them," one of the real Glee Losers. No, it wasn't like a real friend knowing the truth. Knowing the secret life they've been leading for the past several months, behind closed doors and under his rumpled sheets.

They're caught, of course. Like he knew they would be eventually. He's just glad it wasn't his mom who caught them, which is something he'd been having nightmares about for weeks. She's been getting suspicious, though, but not about the most obvious stuff. Like the fact that he's had a girl in his bed almost every night since before Christmas. No, moms always hone in on the more subtle stuff.

Like that he's been losing weight. Which, given his small size ever since he'd been stuck in the chair, and the fact that he tends to wear baggy clothes and that he's always hunched over in his chair, he's really surprised she even noticed. In fact, he'd barely noticed. It's not like he gets a chance to weigh himself frequently or anything. But his too baggy clothes have been feeling even more baggy lately, and the last time Tina ripped his shirt off, she joked that his ribs were going to poke her eye out.

So, the next time he'd taken a shower, he took the time to examine his reflection in the mirror and she was absolutely right. His ribs, which were usually hidden under a pretty well-toned chest (rolling yourself around in a wheelchair tended to at least keep your upper body in decent shape), were now plainly visible. Not in a gross, skeleton way, of course. But they were definitely there. And now that he was getting a good look at himself, he noticed that the rest of him wasn't looking too great either. His eyes had bags under them and his cheeks looked a little sunken.

Was he getting sick or something? He felt fine for the most part, besides the tightness in his stomach that he'd grown accustomed to ever since he and Tina had started sneaking around. Though now that he thought about, he supposes he had been losing his appetite recently. Like he just wasn't hungry like he used to be.

When staring at his own tired face starts to freak him out, he shrugs it off, and decides he just needs more sleep. After all, with Tina over all the time, he obviously hasn't been getting anywhere close to a full night's sleep. There's the sex itself, of course, but then there's also the fact that he's so anxious about making sure she's out of there by the time his parents wake up that he spends most of the night half-awake anyway, casting nervous glances at the clock while she sleeps curled against him.

Yes, that had to be it. He was just exhausted. Maybe he'd ask his mom if he could stay home sick tomorrow. He certainly looked sick enough to convince her.

His mother babies him the next morning like he knew she would. Brings him toast before she leaves for work, offers to come home on her lunch break and make him soup. He manages to shoo her away, though, tells her he just needs to sleep. And sleep he does.

It's just about lunch time when he starts awake. He's confused about what woke him up at first, but then he feels something graze his stomach. He bolts upright, only to find Tina perched lightly on his lap, smiling coyly down at him.

"What are you doing here?"

Well, she explains, she figured if he got to skip school, she may as well, too. Since she saw him yesterday and he seemed fine, she figures he's faking. He explains that he's only sort of faking, seeing as how he has felt so run down lately.

She nods like she believes him, but then she's stretching herself out on top of him, pulling at his shirt, and trying to kiss him despite his protests. He tries telling her that he really isn't feeling well, that he thinks their extracurricular sextivities are having a toll on him, but it's like she's not hearing him at all. She's apparently determined to have her way with him, and even though he can feel his stomach growing uneasy, and he's afraid his mom may actually decide to come home for lunch, he finds himself giving in to her like he always does. Lets her strip him of his clothes and lay her naked body on top of his.

It doesn't matter, he tells himself. He can sleep this afternoon. Or maybe he'll tell her not to come over for a couple nights so he can rest. But he knows already that he won't actually say anything to her. He'll let her come over like she always does, and he'll let her take what she wants from him. Because she needs him, right? Just like he needs her.

He doesn't realize it until after she's spent on top of him. He didn't look at her face once.

He actually does get sick a week later. His lack of sleep and appetite has finally caught up with him, and his flu-like symptoms keep him out of school for three whole days. He supposes he must look pretty bad, because Tina actually keeps herself away for the most part, though she comes over every afternoon to drop off his homework and even offers to do some of it for him, so he won't have too much to work on when he gets better.

He tells her not to worry about, and realizes with a start that he's hoping he can use all of his make-up work as an excuse to not see her.

What's wrong with him? Why does he want to avoid her? She's practically his girlfriend!

He must be really sick, he figures. He can't even think about having sex right now without feeling sick to his stomach.

When he finally makes it back to school, still feeling weak and looking worse for wear, he's surprised to find a box of homemade cookies in his locker. He assumes they're from Tina, though he's usually the baker between them, but it turns out they're from Quinn. He recognizes her loopy, delicate scrawl that tells him she hopes he's feeling better.

He decides to bring them to glee rehearsal, figures he can share them if she's okay with it. She's more than happy to help him pass them out, as they all happily welcome him back. Even Santana seems almost genuinely glad to see him. The only one who seems out of sorts is Tina.

It takes him only a couple minutes to figure out what's bothering her, as she eyes the cookies suspiciously and frowns tightly in Quinn's general direction. When he takes his usual place by her side, he squeezes her knee lightly, reassuring her that it was just a nice gesture. Nothing more. She smiles slightly at him, but he doesn't miss how the smile drops when she glances back at Quinn.

Glee rehearsal is uneventful, except for everyone's eyes occasionally darting toward Quinn's ever-expanding belly. He's sure they're all thinking what he's thinking – that she's about to pop any minute. She's technically not due for another month or so, but she just looks *so* big. He still sort of can't get used to it.

When everyone starts to leave, they hang back like they always do. Quinn has dozed off in the back row again, and everyone just let her be, like always. Mercedes wakes her gently, and carries her bag for her as they head out together. Before she's out the door, she turns back and smiles sweetly at him. He waves goodbye, even though he can feel Tina's eyes on him. He decides to ignore her little display of jealousy for now, figures she'll be over it by tomorrow like she always is when it comes to Quinn.

But as he starts to head for the door, she holds his chair back firmly.

"Oh no, you don't," she says teasingly.

He looks back at her, and she's got that coy smile on her mouth that he both loves and hates, depending on the day and his general attitude. He asks her what she's doing. She holds up a finger, telling him to wait a minute.

She walks over to where Mr. Schue is still packing up music sheets, and asks him if it's okay if she and Artie stay a little while and rehearse some more. Tells him they're working on a duet. Mr. Schue doesn't need to hear anything else, and excitedly tells her that it's fine and that he can't wait to hear what they come up with.

Artie can't help it. He's excited too. He's been dying to sing a proper duet with Tina, but always felt weird asking her. Like she might get freaked out or something.

When she makes her way back over to him, waving as Mr. Schue leaves, he asks her what song she had in mind. He hates how disappointed he is when she shakes her head and says she just told him that to get rid of him.

He's about to ask her why when she straddles his lap and starts kissing him right there in the classroom. With the door still open and everything.

"Tina!" he yells, startled. He tries to shove her off of him, but she locks her knees on either side of him and starts licking his neck. Come on, she purrs.

No, he tells her firmly. Grabs her arms and forces her away from him. He may be feeling weak, but he's still stronger than her. She's forced to stand up before he pushes her completely off of him.

"Are you crazy?" he asks her seriously. Anyone could walk in on them and they would be in major trouble, not only with the school, but with Mr. Schue and their parents, and –

"Fine," she says, and starts pushing him toward Mr. Schue's office. He shakes his head, tries stopping the wheels with his hands, but he hadn't put his gloves back on yet, and the spinning wheels are too much for them, as rough as they are. He tells her to stop and is a little surprised at how angry he sounds. But she knows how much he hates it when people force him to go somewhere. It makes him feel weak and small and like he's a child being pushed around in a stroller or something.

He grabs his wheels and forces his chair around, glaring at her now.

"Stop it!" he screams.

He can see that she's surprised and he's mildly embarrassed at his outburst, but he's mostly just angry that she's not listening to him. That she never listens to him.

She quietly apologizes, folds in on herself. Makes herself as small as possible even as she towers over him. She just wanted to have some fun, she explains. And then she's on her knees in front of him, holding his hands in hers. She just needed him.

He can feel himself cracking even as he tells himself that he will absolutely not be fooling around with her at school. What if someone sees them? She shrugs, says she'll lock the door. What if he's still not feeling up to it? She just kisses him then, says she'll do all the work.

That makes him go cold inside and he can feel himself stiffen against her, but she's already climbing in his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his mouth, even as he stays still against her. Then she whispers against his ear.

"Please."

He feels his eyes shut, feels his own arms wrap around her waist as she shrugs out of her shirt, lets it fall off her shoulders. She's reaching between them now, and he's vaguely aware of the sounds of her undoing his pants. Her skirt is pushed up around her waist, her knees digging painfully in to his sides.

But he can't make himself relax. He can't make himself look at her. His stomach is twisted in to a thousand knots as he digs his fingers into her thighs, trying not to physically push her away like he wants to. His mind is racing, screaming at him that this isn't right. This isn't what he wants. But he quiets all the voices in his head, lets his thoughts clear out until he's letting her kiss him the way she wants to, letting her tighten herself around him.

Someone tries to open the door then, and they freeze, Tina's eyes wide as she stares at him. She holds her finger to his mouth, as if he even wanted to say anything. She mouths that the door is locked. He can feel his own heart racing and he starts to feel dizzy and lightheaded, like he's very close to having some kind of panic attack if she doesn't get off of him _right now_.

When he hears a key slide in to the door, he swears he almost just dies right then. Tina is flying off him, pulling her skirt down and trying to get her shirt on when the door opens and he's staring at a giant fluffy kitten face, which is attached to a bright red sweater.

Rachel Berry is staring at them with her mouth wide open. For the first time since he's known her, she appears to be speechless. He has the sense to look down at his lap, and is grateful that Tina pulled his pants back up before jumping off of him, but they're still undone and his shirt is open at the top. Not to mention Tina's general state of undress.

In other words, it's fairly obvious what she caught them doing.

"Sorry … I just … Mr. Schue gave me …. I just needed …"

Tina is standing behind his chair now, arms folded protectively across her chest. And he hates her in that moment. Leaving him exposed. Hiding behind him like this whole thing wasn't her fault.

Rachel starts nodding quickly and pointing to the door anxiously.

"I'm just gonna …" And then she's gone as quickly as she came.

He sits very still for a moment. Feels his eyes stinging painfully, and he can hear himself hyperventilating more than he can feel it.

"Artie," she says quietly, places a hand on his shoulder. He shrugs it off and rolls himself away from her. Buttons his shirt back up with his back still to her. She says his name again, and he buckles his belt. Now she's saying please, and he can't handle it.

"Just stop," he says so softly he's not sure if she even heard him. He can't make his throat work properly.

He opens the door and leaves her there, doesn't turn back once. Not even when he hears her say she's sorry.

He doesn't go home. He finds his chair sitting in front of her house like it took him there on its own. He knocks because he can't reach the doorbell.

The now familiar fluffy kitten answers the door, and Rachel Berry doesn't say anything as he keeps his eyes on the ground. Ashamed. Embarrassed. In front of Rachel Berry.

"Look," he tries to start, but he can't find the words. He feels like he needs to explain what she saw, but he's utterly at a loss as to what to say.

Luckily, again for the first time since he's known her, Rachel Berry says exactly the right thing.

"You don't have to say anything," she says gently.

He nods in appreciation, runs a hand anxiously through his hair. He still doesn't say anything, but he can't bring himself to leave either. He doesn't know why, but he doesn't want to go home. Not to his room.

She's twisting her hands together now, obviously uncomfortable, but he strangely doesn't care. He feels a strange detachment right now, like he's felt too much in the past hour to feel anything else.

"Do you wanna come in?"

The question startles him out of his funk and he looks at her now and feels like he's seeing her for the first time. Her face is open and completely sincere. She only ever looks like this when she's singing. Otherwise, she's carefully hidden behind her starlet mask, acting like she doesn't care that 95% of the school can't stand her.

But most of all, her face is kind. And understanding. And not judgmental at all.

He hears himself say okay, and she's standing back so he can roll himself in. She leads him to the kitchen and she's pouring him a cup of coffee before he even asks, followed wordlessly by a plate of star-shaped sugar cookies that she places on the table. She pulls out one of the chairs for him, but she doesn't touch his own chair once.

As he starts to feel some rumblings of emotion again, he can't believe that Rachel Berry is the one to bring them out of him. Can't believe that without her even asking, he's telling her everything. That without ever once touching him, he can almost feel her holding him together.

He can't put his finger on what he's feeling until he's home and in his own bed, and falling asleep almost peacefully for the first time in months.

He feels grateful that Rachel Berry is his friend.

* * *

Post-Author's Note: Besides Artie, Quinn and Rachel are my absolute favorites to write for! So, I'm really glad I got to work Rachel in to this chapter, and I hope you like their interactions, because there will be a bit more, as well as more Quinn, which I'm apologizing in advance for. I just can't get away from that particular dynamic, it seems, and now adding Rachel to the mix will make it even better, I think. But no worries! There will be no Rachtie or Archel or what have you.

And thanks for sticking with me, you guys! I almost have the story finished and it will probably be ending around Chapter 17 or 18. I really appreciate all of the kind reviews and favorite stories! 3


	13. Chapter 13

The first time he talks to someone about them, he says, "Tina and I are sleeping together," when what he really wants to say is, "Tina's been fucking me." But he can't bring himself to say that to an adult.

Rachel takes her new role as his friend very seriously over the next couple days, running interference between him and Tina very effectively. Every time Tina tries to approach him, apologies written all over her face, Rachel conveniently rushes up and starts chattering at him about something _very_ important. Even when he tells her she can stop, she still hovers over him like a mother hen for the remainder of the day. She even sits with him at glee practice, despite the fact that he's been sitting with Quinn the last few days, as well. The girls even exchange some words a couple times, one time coming dangerously close to an actual civil conversation.

Really, he thinks they could be good friends if they could just get past the Finn of it all.

When Rachel lingers to walk him home, as she has done this whole week, he takes a deep breath before telling her she can go on without him. She glances over at Tina, who is too-obviously taking way too long to pack up her bag across the room.

"Are you sure?" she whispers, and he nods, tells her he'll call her when he gets home with all the details. He sees her struggle, but she can't hide the anticipation in her eyes at that. And even though he feels like he knows her better after one week than most of the other kids combined, she still surprises him by bending down and giving him a swift hug before leaving the room.

And then there were two.

He sees Tina steady herself before walking over and she cautiously says hello.

"Hey."

And then silence. Awkward silence. Very, very awkward.

She asks if she can walk him home and he makes sure that his nod doesn't appear too eager. Because as mad as he's been with her, he still misses her. Still wants her to be his girlfriend. He supposes he's a glutton for punishment. Or very pathetic. Or, most likely, both.

"So," she starts. "You and Rachel."

He quickly tells her that they're just friends, and that actually makes her laugh. The idea of him liking Rachel is apparently even crazier than the idea of him liking Quinn, and he laughs too, because it's true. Neither of those girls are his type at all. Well, not anymore at least.

They've barely gotten outside of the school when she turns to him abruptly, dropping to her knees in front of him.

"Look, Artie, I'm_ so_ sorry about the other day. I don't even know what came over me or what I was thinking, but I guess I was just really upset and you always make me feel so much better, and I wasn't myself at all, and I felt so terrible the last couple of days and I just –"

He cuts her off by grabbing her hands in his. Tells her to slow down, so she takes a deep breath, but ultimately just ends up shrugging.

"I don't know what came over me," she says quietly. She shakes her head, swipes at her eyes with her gloved hand.

"It's like I turn in to a crazy person when I'm around you."

He feels a sense of relief at her admission. He'd been thinking he was the crazy one this whole time. He lets his thumb rub the top of her hand, tells her she's not crazy even though he secretly sort of thinks all girls are.

She's sitting in front of him now, draping her arms over his knees and leaning her chin on them, looking up at him from under those long lashes. Says that it's like she's so careful around her parents and everybody else, that when she gets around him, it's like she explodes with the desire to be with him and to touch him. That she thinks about him _all_ the time, like she's some kind of creeper or something.

He laughs at that. Tells her he doesn't think she's creepy at all. Just a little confused, maybe.

"Confused?" she asks. She's not confused about how she feels about him.

He hesitates before continuing, but figures that since they're being honest, he should just get it out there.

"I think," he starts hesitantly, "that you like me just fine." He can see her start to protest, so he covers her mouth with his finger. Tells her to let him finish.

"I think you like me maybe even a lot. But I think the reasons you like me might be … complicated."

He finishes lamely and searches her face, trying to see if he's made her upset or angry, but she mostly just looks sad.

"I don't understand," she whispers, and it kills him to see that her eyes are wet. He takes a breath, rubs her hands more firmly as he tries to phrase his words better.

"Like, maybe you're sad because you feel like your parents ignore you, or that people make fun of you," he goes on, and her head is shaking slightly, like she doesn't want to believe what he's saying.

"And that maybe the reason you like me is because …" he pauses, not sure if he can get these next words out. "Because, well, you know that I … that I love you."

He hates that this is the time he chose to say those words to her, even if it was kind of indirect. But he'd been thinking a lot the past couple of days, and talking things over with his new BFF, and if Rachel Berry knows a lot about singing, she knows even more about epic love stories.

"Artie," she'd told him, "you can't just keep loving her blindly and hoping that one day she might love you back."

Her bluntness had stung, but he realized that that's exactly what he'd been trying to do the past few months – love her enough that she'd love him, too. And it'd been killing him. Literally eating him up on the inside, twisting his stomach and haunting his thoughts. He was a shell of the person he was at the beginning of the year. His mom had even suggested he start taking the anti-depressants again, which his doctor had prescribed for him after the accident.

Tina was staring off over his shoulder now, her face unreadable as she thought about what he said, let it sink in. When she finally met his eyes again, a tear rolled down her cheek.

"Do you really think that's true?" she asks quietly, like she's scared of his answer.

He wants to lie to her. To tell her no and that everything will be okay. That they're perfect for each other and that they'll make each other happy. But the truth is that he wasn't happy. He hadn't been in weeks. And she certainly wasn't happy either. He's not sure if he had ever made her happy. Not really.

He hears himself say yes before he even really made the decision to say it. Her eyes shut and more tears spill over her lids. She wipes at them furiously, and shrugs him off when he tries to hold her face in his hands. He hears himself say he's sorry, even though he's not sure what he's sorry for exactly. Maybe for not being enough for her.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," she whispers, and then she's standing and walking away from him and he feels his own eyes start to water as he watches her go.

That night, he can't get to sleep. He keeps wishing she was in his arms like he'd grown accustomed to over the past year or so. But he knows deep down that she was never really there with him. She never felt what he felt.

Just as he's telling himself to man up and not cry like a little girl, he hears his phone vibrate on the table next to him. He knows it will be her and he's pretty sure he knows what the text will say. To his own astonishment, he somehow manages to ignore it. But he's not all that surprised when he hears his window creak open about a half hour later.

He doesn't bother opening his eyes, but feels her climb in to the bed and wrap her little arms around his waist. She says she couldn't sleep. He hears himself agree with her. When she asks him to hold her, he knows what she's really asking for, and he realizes that he can't fix her.

So, he lets her climb on top of him, and for the first time in weeks, he looks at her the whole time. He makes her go slow and he presses gentle kisses all over her face, holds her as tight as he can manage. Makes love to her the way he's wanted to from the beginning. Holds her in his arms while she cries herself to sleep.

She's not at school the next day. He's like a zombie, just going through the motions. Can't bring himself to eat at lunch, and can barely register that both Quinn and Rachel are staring at him from across the table, exchanging worried glances with each other. When Rachel silently begins to push him out of their last class, he doesn't even notice that she pushes him in the opposite direction of the choir room.

Quinn is standing at the end of the hall, waiting for them. He doesn't even get a chance to ask what's going on before she's awkwardly maneuvering herself onto her knees in front of him, and touching his hand lightly with hers.

"We made you an appointment," she says softly and he finally realizes where they are. Rachel is turning him in to Ms. Pillsbury's office before he can even try to protest, and he really doesn't have the energy anyway. The guidance counselor smiles warmly from behind her desk and then Rachel is shutting the door behind her and it's just the two of them. He can see the two girls sitting stiffly next to each other just outside, and he almost misses her question.

"Artie, is there anything you want to talk about?"


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note:** Another Quinn-heavy chapter, though this should be the last one. It feels like their story has come to a nice close, and I'm so glad you let me share it with you. As always, you can feel free to skip through the Quinn stuff, though I feel like you'll be missing some good Artie stuff in the process.

* * *

The first time they break up, he's not even sure he can call it that, since it's become quite clear they were never really together in the first place.

He had been to see Ms. Pillsbury two more times. She'd asked to see him twice a week for the time being, and she'd even called his mother to let her know. She hadn't said anything specific, of course, and he's pretty sure she let his mom believe that he was just having depression issues about the Chair again. During his freshman year, he'd had weekly appointments with Ms. Pillsbury, so this wasn't particularly new territory for his mom.

He'd managed to tell her the basics of his relationship with Tina. They were having sex. He loved her. He was pretty sure she was just using him. And she'd nodded and listened and given him small ways to deal with the all-encompassing misery he was currently experiencing.

Yes, that sounded dramatic, but he had never felt this awful in his life. Not even After.

She'd suggested that he talk to Tina, and that if he didn't feel ready to tell her exactly how he felt, to at least put an official end to whatever it was they were doing. No matter how much he loved her and wanted to be with her, their current situation was not good for him and was not making him happy.

So, he broke up with her. Sort of. He didn't use those words, but that's how it felt. He told her, in a monotone that he could tell freaked her out, that she couldn't come over anymore. That he wouldn't answer her text messages. That he didn't want to walk home together anymore. He needed to figure some things out and he couldn't do that if they were still sleeping together.

She'd taken it strangely well. Nodded in all the right places, told him she understood. But she never showed up to glee rehearsal that afternoon and he tried to ignore how much that bothered him.

Rachel insisted that he walk her home every day. Said she couldn't stand the idea of him moping if she left him by himself. Even Mr. Schue noticed his mood, and offered to set up an appointment with Ms. Pillsbury for him. He was only a little shocked when Artie admitted that he'd already been seeing her.

What really surprised him, though, was Quinn. She only left his side when they parted ways for separate classes. She'd walk beside him, one hand on her huge belly, one on his chair handle, and her bag sitting on his lap. They kept getting strange looks, even from some of the other glee kids. He could hear people whispering about them, speculating about why they were suddenly inseparable, but he couldn't bring himself to care much. The only person's opinion he cared about kept her eyes determinedly away from them.

Regionals was next week, and he felt nauseous just thinking about it. They'd only just decided on a Journey Medley and while he didn't have a solo, he would be backing up Rachel and Mercedes for a significant portion of "Don't Stop Believing," so Rachel insisted on extra rehearsals for him outside of glee club, and since she didn't have anything else better to do, Quinn usually tagged along. He had a suspicion that Rachel was just trying to keep him busy, but he figured he could use the extra practice anyway, so he didn't really mind all that much.

Tina had been spending most of her time with Mercedes and Kurt, though she also seemed to be hanging out with Mike, which bothered him a lot more than he would ever admit, no matter how many times Rachel asked him about it.

As for Quinn, she stayed quiet for the most part. He thinks she's probably nervous about the looming due date, which was only about three or four weeks away, and that was only if she didn't go into labor early. The whole club was extra attentive to her these days, everyone watching her out of the corner of their eye and freaking out every time she winced in discomfort. She'd already had false labor pains once during rehearsal, and Mr. Schue even floated the idea of her not coming to Regionals. The bout of tears that followed the suggestion shut that down immediately.

They'd all gotten used to the tears over the last couple of weeks. Hormones and all. Even Finn was being extra nice to her these days and he swore he even saw him hug her one afternoon in the hallway. But no one could compare to Puck and the total transformation he'd made over the past month. He was attentive, kind, and downright sweet to her at all times, hovering over her everywhere she went. He'd started bringing her overnight bag for the hospital to school every day, just in case she really did go in to labor, and he'd even convinced her to move back in to his place for the last couple weeks.

But despite all the attention, Quinn still seemed to like to spend most of her time with him. She told him that she didn't feel like she needed to talk around him. Like he already knew what she was thinking, so she could just sit quietly and not have to put on a show. God, she was so tired of acting.

So when he sees her waiting by his locker for him after 2nd period, he doesn't initially think anything is out of the ordinary. It's not until he gets closer that he can see that her eyes are red. She wordlessly holds her hand out to him and he rolls up beside her, lets her place her hand on his chair like she always does and lets her lead him to a nearby supply closet. Once the halls clear out, she opens the door and lets him inside.

"What's wrong?" he immediately asks her, but she simply throws herself in his arms, sobbing in to his shoulder. He tries to calm her, tells her everything will be okay. He's startled at how much rubbing her back in soothing circles reminds him of Tina. Quinn is too thin, though, even pregnant. He can still feel her shoulder blades and ribs through her clothes. Tina was all smooth curves under his hands.

He shakes himself of the memory, reminds himself that there is a very pregnant girl crying in his lap. Thinking about Tina's curves right now is wildly inappropriate.

He realizes that she's hyperventilating, her breaths coming ragged and short and he's sort of afraid she's going to pass out or something. He reaches around her as best as he can and grabs a paper lunch bag out of a box on the shelf, holds it to her mouth until she understands and takes it, trying to breathe in to it.

"Just breathe," he tells her. He takes deep, deliberate breaths, feeling his chest rise against hers, and after a couple seconds, she matches her breathing to his, taking deep breaths in to the bag until her sobbing slowly stops. She lets herself go limp in his arms and leans her head against his shoulder, tears still falling silently down her perfect, rosy cheeks.

He just holds her for a long while, 3rd period completely forgotten. The bag is held loosely in one of her hands as the other draws familiar circles on her stomach. When he thinks the tears are gone for good, he nudges her forehead with his nose.

"You wanna tell me about it?"

She waits only a moment before whispering that he said he loved her.

"Who?"

She sniffles and mumbles the name as quickly as she can.

He nods in understanding, though he doesn't know why the fact that Puck is in love with her is a particular surprise to anyone, especially to her. As if she can read his mind, she explains that it was easier when she was just another girl to him. That she could pass the whole thing off as a stupid mistake, give the baby up for adoption, and move on with her life. Maybe be back with Finn in time for prom next year.

But how can she move on now? How can she give up his baby, that he's already named, and wants to raise with her? And worst of all, will he still love her if she does give her up?

"Do you love him?" He asks the question because he has to, but he thinks he already knows the answer. It may seem like she just gave it up, but he knows her better than that. With Finn or not, she wouldn't have had sex with Noah Puckerman if she didn't love him. Even if she didn't realize it yet.

"I don't know," she says quietly, and she's looking at him with those eyes again. Eyes that pierce through to his soul and beg him to make everything better like he used to. When it was just the two of them and everything was simple.

He's not surprised when she kisses him. He's not even surprised when she twists in his lap and wraps her small arms around his neck. Her swollen belly is pressed uncomfortably between them, a giant reminder of how what they're doing is very wrong and will only serve to hurt them both.

But it isn't until he feels the small bump against his ribs that he pulls away from her. He looks down, startled. It's the first time he's felt the baby. Sure, all the girls and even some of the guys had excitedly run over and felt when she would announce that the baby was kicking. But he always stayed firmly seated, felt like that would be just too much for him.

She's looking down, as well, at his hand planted firmly against her stomach, feeling the little girl moving inside her.

"I never get used to that," she whispers. He doesn't need to look at her to know that she's crying again.

She places her hand over his, lets their fingers intertwine for a brief moment before she moves away from him. She needs his help steadying herself before she can get to her feet again. She's standing in front of him, and there's a part of him that doesn't want her to go. That wants her to stay with him in the stolen moment they just shared. That wished she wasn't pregnant and that he wasn't in this stupid chair, and that they were just two teenagers sneaking off to the supply closet for a make-out session.

He's still holding her waist, and he's suddenly leaning toward her, his forehead resting lightly against her belly. She stays very still at first, but then she wraps her tiny hands around his head, lets her fingers run through his hair as he clutches her against him.

"I'm so sorry," he mumbles in to her dress, and he doesn't need to clarify what he means. He knows she'll understand. He's sorry about the accident. He's sorry they grew apart. He's sorry she's so alone and that her parents are terrible. He's sorry that she fell for Puck and made a huge mistake that she'll have to live with for the rest of her life. He's sorry that he stole this moment with her.

When she says she's sorry, too, he believes her, and when she says she loves him, he knows she means it, even if it's not the way she loves Puck or the way he loves Tina.

It's just theirs.


	15. Chapter 15

Author's Note: Okay, this is a long one. It's the "Quinn has the baby!" chapter, so there was a lot to fit in. It also means we're winding down, in case you couldn't tell. I think there will be about 2-3 more chapters, and I'm really liking where this story has ended up and how far it's come. Again, thank you to everyone who reads and let me know what you think so far! :)

* * *

The first time she calls him her boyfriend, it's an offhand comment that seems to surprise even her. And she says it in front of the entire Glee Club, which comes as less of a shock to them and more so just confirms most of their suspicions.

Regionals went off without a hitch, if you're not counting the fact that Quinn went in to labor almost immediately after (he's not sure why you wouldn't count_ that_). Knowing the club's general flare for the dramatic, he's shocked she didn't just have the baby while they were on stage. It's the appearance of her mother that finally does it and has her water breaking all over Mrs. Fabray's designer heels.

Puck and Finn are on either side of her in seconds, and he's not as shocked as everyone else when Rachel swoops in and takes charge of the situation, ordering Mr. Schue to bring the bus around, telling Puck to call the doctor and tell him they're coming, and screaming at Mrs. Fabray to get out of the way and go get her car, too. She's even instructing Quinn on the proper breathing techniques. When he asks her about it later, she just shrugs and says it never hurts to be prepared.

As Rachel loudly tells them how to support her just so, Puck and Finn manage to practically lift Quinn off of her feet as they head toward the parking lot, the rest of the club trailing closely behind them. He finds himself trying desperately to stay as close to her as he can, watches as her eyes get more panicky and as she starts to cry. The only thing that makes him feel a little better is the sight of Rachel holding her hand tightly as she runs along in front of them.

All of a sudden, he feels someone begin to push his chair faster, yelling for the others to get out of the way. He's startled to hear that it's Tina's voice, and that she's maneuvering him to the front of the group. He manages to reach out and just touch the small of Quinn's back as they all converge on the parking lot. She glances back and spots him, sighing in relief at the sight of him right there. He yells that he's coming, that he won't leave her. But then Finn is ushering her in to the backseat of her mother's car, Puck jumping in the driver's seat, and Rachel forcing Mrs. Fabray to sit in the passenger seat instead of in the backseat with her daughter. Everyone else rushes on to the waiting bus and it's starting up before he realizes that no one has dropped the ramp.

He feels his heart drop. No one will want to waste the time. They don't understand about him and Quinn. They don't know that he_ needs_ to be there. As if she's reading his mind, Tina is yelling for Finn, telling him to help her get Artie on the bus. The other boy has just secured his ex-girlfriend and his current girlfriend in the car, sending them on their way ahead of them. He rushes over to them with no questions, and he's startled when Mike appears at his other side out of nowhere, Matt close behind.

Tina quickly undoes all of his straps and Finn is lifting him up easily, and if he didn't want to get on that bus so bad, he might be slightly embarrassed by this moment. But no one is laughing or staring. He can see the girls and Kurt getting organized on the bus, making room for him and his chair, which Mike has already folded up and is awkwardly carrying with Matt's help. Finn is struggling to maneuver his extra-large frame through the door and up the stairs, Artie making his movements even more awkward than usual.

But then, to his utter surprise, Brittany and Santana meet them at the front of the bus, and easily relieve Finn of his burden. He tries not to think about how silly he must look, with the two seemingly tiny, but very strong girls hoisting him into a seat. But no one else seems to think there's anything silly about the situation. In fact, everyone is acting like it's just a normal everyday occurrence.

Tina takes her seat next to him, her hand easily sliding in to his, squeezing it and telling him that it will be okay. That Rachel Berry could probably deliver that baby if she had to. Despite his anxiety and his overall discomfort right then, he can't help the low laugh that escapes his lips. Can't help the smile that creeps on to his face at the twinkle in Tina's eyes.

She holds his hand all the way to the hospital.

Quinn is still in the waiting room getting situated in her own wheelchair when they all burst in, Tina pushing him ahead of everyone else.

"Thank God," Rachel exclaims. Quinn's been asking for him. And sure enough, she's holding out her hand to him, saying his name in that special way she does. Puck comes rushing around the corner then, Quinn's doctor in tow, and he's turning her wheelchair toward the double doors even as she's still reaching for him.

She tells them to wait. Says she wants him with her. Puck huffs in exasperation, tells her they have to go_ now_. She just continues to hold her hand out to him, and he doesn't know why, but he can't move. He knows he doesn't belong there. Knows that Quinn is just seeking comfort from the one person in the room that she's known longest.

"Honey, I'll be there," her mother tries to tell her, but Quinn just glares at her and shakes her head.

Rachel smoothly steps between Quinn and her mother, grabs the hand that has remained empty. And with that movement, she breaks whatever spell was on Quinn, because when she looks up at Rachel, relief washes over her face immediately and she's clutching to the other girl so tightly that Rachel actually winces. Artie feels his own relief as Rachel leans down and takes Quinn's face in her hands.

"It's going to be okay," she says calmly, but with such force that Quinn believes her. "But there won't be any room for Artie's chair in the room."

Quinn glances at him one last time before nodding and Puck curses softly and starts pushing her toward the doors again. She keeps a hold of Rachel, though, so Rachel turns back and nods at him reassuringly before following them.

And then they're gone and Tina is squeezing his shoulders comfortingly. The rest of them just stare at the doors for several moments, until Mr. Schue puts an arm around Finn and leads him to the waiting room. They all follow eventually, but Artie can't bring himself to move away. Tina waits with him until he's ready, standing dutifully behind him until he begins to turn his chair around.

They all wait anxiously for just about an hour, the whole Glee Club on one wall and Mrs. Fabray sitting silently on the opposite wall. Finn stands several times, paces back and forth until Kurt walks over and touches his arm lightly, leads him back to his chair. He keeps jokingly reminding him that it's not his baby anymore. Finn chuckles along with the rest of them, but Artie gets it. Finn thought the baby was his longer than he didn't. He loved them both, and just because she lied, that doesn't make all that disappear. Hell, it's been years, and Artie still loves her, too.

Tina keeps her hand firmly in his the whole time, seemingly not caring that everyone will see. He tries not to think too much about it. It's an extreme situation after all. She's just being a good friend. Even Kurt keeps holding Finn's hand, and he's pretty sure that's not a romantic gesture (even though it probably would have been at one point). But it's the way she keeps looking at him, like she just cares so much. Like she can't stand seeing him worry like this. He hasn't seen such open emotion on her face in months.

When Puck finally emerges, looking worn and beaten down, everyone stands and Artie pushes himself right up to him.

"How is she?" Mrs. Fabray accosts him immediately, her tone almost accusing in a way.

"She's fine," Puck breathes, and he's trying to smile, but Artie can plainly see the effort it's taking.

"And the baby?" Finn asks, completely sincere in his concern for the little girl.

"She's …" Puck starts, but he has to stop and take a shuddering breath. His chin trembles and his hands start to shake. He tries again, but can't seem to get past the one word.

They all stare at him blankly, unfamiliar with this emotional version of their mohawked friend. Mrs. Fabray looks downright startled, but Mr. Schue reaches out to him tentatively, says his name.

Noah collapses in to him, sobbing in earnest against his teacher's chest, choking out only that she was beautiful. Artie is the closest to him, and he starts to reach for him out of habit and compassion, but he's surprised when Finn beats him to it. He grasps Noah's shoulder firmly, rubs his hand across his back and shoulders as the other boy continues to cry. They both ended up losing something, he realizes, as he thinks back to Quinn's worries of only a week ago. If he'd still love her if she gave her up.

Rachel pokes her head around the corner, smiles encouragingly at him before stepping toward the circle that had now formed around Noah. She places one hand on each boy, and Finn is wrapping her in his arms before she can even say anything. He mumbles a thank you in to her hair, but she's already reaching for Noah. Quinn wants him. No one can stop Mrs. Fabray from following this time.

As Rachel takes a seat in Finn's lap, she fills the rest of them in on what exactly happened and how Quinn handled everything wonderfully. How beautiful the baby girl is. She almost calls her Beth, and Artie is sure that they've all been secretly calling her that since Noah sang the song. That and Drizzle, of course.

Finally, Mercedes asks if they should maybe head back to the competition, but Mr. Schue tells them there's no point. Shelby, the Vocal Adrenalin Coach, called him and broke the news that they hadn't placed. She also wanted him to tell Rachel to call her. Artie starts at that before abruptly remembering that Shelby also happens to be Rachel's Mom. That whole thing only went down like two or three weeks ago, but it seems like ages now.

Since Quinn will be staying the night, they all eventually decide that they may as well head back to Lima. Despite Mrs. Fabray's arguments, Rachel insists that she and Finn will come pick Quinn and Noah up in the afternoon, and since Quinn is refusing to go home with her mother, she has no choice but to eventually leave, as well.

Before they leave, he sees Rachel greet her own mother fairly warmly, and he's not sure why she's even there, so he makes a mental note to ask her about it on the bus. But when they finally get themselves all loaded up, actually using the ramp this time, Rachel isn't with them. According to Finn, she had to take care of something with her mom.

Thankfully, besides that curious situation, the bus ride home is completely uneventful as most of them sleep the entire way. Artie can't seem to relax enough to sleep, though, so he settles for watching Tina sleep on his shoulder, that blue streak he loves falling gracefully across her cheek.

Maybe today would be a new beginning in more ways than the obvious one.

* * *

Quinn comes back to school on Monday, despite Noah's protests. Later, she admits to him privately that she'd been crying from the moment they took her out of her arms. She couldn't bear the idea of sitting home all day, being miserable. She was still a little sore, but otherwise okay. Physically anyway. He wasn't sure she'd ever fully recover.

Tina had showed up on his doorstep that morning. She nervously asked him if it was okay if she walked him to school. He said yes a little too quickly. Partly because he'd missed her so much, but also because he was so grateful for what she'd done for him that weekend. How she understood exactly what he needed without having to be told, how she took it upon herself to make sure he was okay. How she let him get a glimpse at the old Tina, the girl he'd fallen in love with all those months ago.

They fall back in to their old routine with ease. At lunch and at glee, she takes Quinn's spot at his side, Rachel and Finn on his other side, and Quinn glued to Noah for the whole day. He's beyond relieved and happy to see that Quinn had been wrong about him. If anything, it seemed Noah Puckerman was even more in love with her now. She looked at him when she needed strength now, the same way she used to look at him. He felt the tiniest of twinges, but he found himself smiling as Noah held a protective arm around her throughout the whole rehearsal.

He was so distracted by the happy couple (well, on their way to happy anyway), that he didn't notice Tina's hand on his knee until Santana called out and told her to stop molesting her boyfriend in front of them. To everyone's surprise, Tina promptly and firmly told Santana that it wasn't any of her business what she chose to do with her boyfriend.

The silence that followed the very loud pronouncement was deafening. It's not that the idea of them dating was shocking to anyone – it's just that no one (outside of the small number who knew the truth) actually thought they were together. Even Mr. Schue looked flabbergasted. For Tina to call him her boyfriend so matter-of-factly was astonishing. Even to her, apparently, as she quickly blushed and turned to him apologetically as her own words finally sunk in.

"I mean …" she stammered. "It's not like …."

"Oh, get over it, Lady Dracula," Santana rolled her eyes. "You already let the cat out of the bag. No use backtracking now." And then she turned to Brittany to continue their conversation, as if she was already bored with the latest gossip. Kurt and Mercedes had immediately started whispering, though, and Finn was asking Rachel hushed questions while Mike loudly tried to get Matt and Noah talking about something else. Quinn just smiled at him, like "What are you gonna do?"

Mr. Schue tried somewhat successfully to pull their attention back to rehearsal, but Artie didn't miss the satisfied little smile he threw their way. Apparently, he approved. Tina had removed her hand from his lap and was now very intently staring at anything but him. Her face was still flushed with embarrassment and it almost looked like she might cry. Startled, he reached over and grabbed her hand in his, trying to tell her that it was alright. No big deal.

But in reality, he felt his own heart sinking at her reaction. Clearly, she hadn't meant to say that at all and she obviously regretted it the second it was out of her mouth. He couldn't believe how foolish he'd been all day, letting himself think that they were back on track to being something more. Obviously, she still didn't want that. Why did he let her turn him in to such an idiot?

With Rachel and Quinn both paired up now, it left just him and Tina to walk home together after rehearsal. As soon as they're alone, she immediately drops in front of him and apologizes, and he tries desperately to brush it off as nonchalantly as he can. But he's pretty sure she catches the hitch in his voice when he says it's fine, because she just keeps over-explaining herself. Says that it just slipped out, that she was so used to saying it, that she didn't mean to make him feel uncomfortable or anything.

It takes him a minute to respond because he's focusing on something she said – that she was so used to calling him her boyfriend. She never once called him her boyfriend, and even shrugged off most coupley things they did, like their one date. He can't help himself when he says quietly, "You never called me your boyfriend before."

He sounds a lot sadder than he wants to.

She blinks and stares at him for a second. Oh, she acknowledges. She guesses she just said it to herself a lot then.

And the little shred of hope that he still had welled up in his chest gets a little bigger. He can feel it making his heart hammer against his chest.

She did?

She blushes, smiles shyly and ducks her head. Well, yeah. What else would she call him? "Friend" doesn't come close anymore. Even "best friend" seems too small for what they have.

He feels the smile slowly creeping on to his face as he watches her squirm under his gaze. Was it possible? Had she really been considering him her boyfriend this whole time? Could she somehow feel even a fraction of what he felt for her?

She glances up at him, still embarrassed and looking a little worried for some reason, too.

"I mean, did you think of me as your girlfriend?"

And she looks genuinely concerned about what his answer will be, even though he's shocked she even has to ask the question. Hadn't he made it clear that he was completely in love with her? How could she not know what she meant to him?

It slowly dawns on him that maybe he was better at not being so obvious than he thought. After all, he had never referred to her as his girlfriend in front of her. He'd never officially asked her to go out with him. Hell, he'd only vaguely said he loved her once, and that was when he was pretty much breaking up with her. This whole time, he thought she was the one resisting this relationship, and he still thinks she was in her own emotionally screwed up way. But maybe, just maybe, she thought he didn't want it either. Maybe she thought he was okay with just sex. He never did work up the nerve to ask her for anything more.

His mind still reeling with all of these thoughts and realizations, he almost forgets that she asked him a question. He quickly assures her that yes, in his eyes, she was always his girlfriend. The smile that graces her face is almost enough to make him burst in to tears. Almost. He's a man, after all. He can't go crying in front of his girlfriend all the time. He's done that enough already.

He knows they still have issues to work through. He knows she still has a _lot_ of issues to work out. But for the first time since this whole thing started, he feels like they're actually on the same page. That they both actually want the same things from this.

He pushes back the streak of blue that he loves so much. He rubs his thumb gently across her still flushed cheek. He watches her sigh and lean in to his touch, pressing their foreheads together lightly. And then he kisses her. It's tentative and soft. Careful and gentle. Full of hope and new beginnings and so much more.

It's everything a first kiss should have been.


	16. Chapter 16

Author's Note: I know I said this would have a couple more chapter, but this story has always had a mind of its own. It wanted to end here, so end here it shall. I started writing this story more than two years ago, way back before we knew Tina faked her stutter, before Artie was randomly a jerk. Before Brittany and Mike and Bartie and Tike. Back when Artie/Tina was the For Real Couple, or the Cory/Topanga as Kevin liked to say.

Of course, I'm disappointed by the way things have turned out on the show, and I'm even more disappointed that Tina has just about as little character development as she did back then. But I think I've managed to tell a good little story about them, and I hope you all agree and have enjoyed reading. I am truly sorry that it took me so long to finish and that I made you endure such a long hiatus. But at the same time, I'm glad I waited rather than forcing the story - I don't think it would have turned out the same and I like where the story ended up.

Again, I am sincerely grateful for everyone who has read this and stuck with me. It's one of my first fanfics and my first series, so I truly appreciate all of the kind reviews and words of support. Thank you. :)

* * *

The first time they go on an official date, it ends up being a quadruple date. And then the entire freaking glee club is there and he doesn't even know how it happened.

Okay, so a few of them were actually supposed to be there, but the rest just showed up on their own.

He and Tina had been an official couple for almost two weeks now. And they hadn't slept together once, which he thought was an improvement for them overall. It was like they were starting fresh, doing everything the way they were supposed to.

They still fooled around, of course. Because, well, why not? They were slowing down, not going backwards.

He'd managed to talk her in to coming with him to see Ms. Pillsbury, which was beyond awkward at first. He swore Tina almost walked out after Ms. Pillsbury tried to talk to them about healthy ways of expressing themselves sexually. It was mortifying, but surprisingly helpful because Ms. Pillsbury was basically telling them things he'd been thinking about for a long time. Like that they shouldn't be having sex just to do it, and that there should be feelings behind it, and that Tina needed to address the reasons why she felt like she "needed" him in that way.

Eventually, she agreed to have her own sessions with Ms. Pillsbury, and even agreed to seriously think about having joint sessions with her parents in the future.

Overall, he felt like they'd made a lot of progress in a relatively short amount of time. He was hopeful about where they were heading, but most of all, he was proud of Tina. He knew firsthand how hard it was to face your inner demons and try to change your life. She'd helped him more than she'd ever know. And he was planning on doing the same for her.

When he asks her to go to dinner with him, she immediately says yes and he's relieved to see her smile the way she used to, with her eyes shining and her dimples finally making a very welcome reappearance. They'll go to Breadstix, because it really is the only restaurant in town appropriate for a date night. And then maybe she'll come over to his house and they can watch a movie or something. And if there happens to be a snuggle fest on the couch, that might be nice, too.

And maybe, just maybe, after she leaves, she'll sneak back into his room like she used to, and he'll get the chance to make love to her the way she deserves.

But he tries to not think about that part too much (which he fails miserably at) because that's not what they're about this time around. If it happens, he wants it to be because it's the right thing to do. Because they love each other and because they're both ready for that next step in their relationship. Because they can't imagine going one more night not in each other's arms.

Because they're meant to be.

He tells Rachel about their date, of course, because ever since Rachel Berry became his best friend, she's managed to turn him into a gossipy girl who like, totally needs to talk about his feelings and stuff. Or something. He's not sure how or when it happened, but every time he's around her, he can't seem to control himself and ends up telling her every little thing he's thinking and feeling.

She has this way about her, you see. This way of taking you in and wrapping you in her tiny arms, and fixing and piecing you back together when you didn't even know you were broken in the first place. This way of holding you together even when she's falling apart, because if she can get you out alive, then maybe she can get herself out, too.

Honestly, he doesn't think he'd know how to breathe without her anymore. But he's getting there. And now that she has him and Finn, and even Shelby and Quinn (and you know, other actual friends), he thinks she's getting there, too.

He doesn't think Tina will ever really understand the strange thing him and Rachel have made for themselves, but when he tries to explain it to her, what he ends up saying is that he sort of wants to be Rachel Berry when he grows up. And he thinks she finally gets it.

He doesn't know why he's surprised, but when Rachel immediately grabs his shoulders and excitedly tells him that she'll bring Finn and it'll be a_ fabulous_ double date, he's so shocked that he ends up agreeing before he even really processes what she says. And once you say yes to Rachel Berry, there's sort of no going back.

Once he breaks it to Tina and she's surprisingly fine with it (and rather amused actually), it's only a matter of time before he ends up inviting his other best friend. His first best friend, and as such, in many ways, his dearest friend. The girl who has managed to curl herself up comfortably in the corner of his heart that's always been hers. That will always be hers and that he knows, though she'll never admit it, will always break Tina's heart just a little. Because it's a spot that she can't touch. A spot that's been closed up since Before. Since that day in the tree so long ago that still manages to wake him in the middle of the night, with a scream and sweaty sheets clinging to his now useless legs.

When he invites her and Noah to tag along, her face lights up and she leans down, wraps her arms around his neck and kisses his cheek swiftly. Thank you, she whispers into his hair, and then she's rushing off to the new man in her life. The one who will fill up all of the empty spaces in her own heart. The spaces that have been hollowed out ever since that day in the tree so long ago that still manages to wake her in the middle of the night, with tears and an outstretched hand and his name on her lips.

Finn showed her how to put the pieces of her heart back together, but Noah's the one who showed her how to use them again.

At glee rehearsal on Friday, Tina mentions the triple date to Kurt and Mercedes and that's all it takes for them to invite themselves along, too. After all, as Kurt points out, they're as much a couple as any of them anyway. They even have the matching outfits to prove it.

They all decide to just walk to Breadstix after rehearsal is over, since there's far too many of them for even two cars to handle, especially with Artie's chair. It's only about a mile and the spring air is just starting to hint at the warm summer to come. School will be out in only a couple of weeks, and Rachel is trying to coordinate a trip to New York for them all. The rest of them are doubtful this plan will ever get off the ground, but they also know that if anyone can make something happen out of just the sheer force of her want for it, it's Rachel Berry.

Luckily, Rachel also took it upon herself to make a reservation, so that when the eight of them arrive at the restaurant, there are already two tables pulled together waiting for them. But they've barely gotten their drink orders put in when he feels someone pulling his chair away from the table.

"Sorry, Wheels, but seeing as how you and Lady Dracula neglected to include us in your 'special' little glee outing, we had to take matters in to our own hands."

He's not sure how she did it, but Santana managed to put the air quotes on "special" without the use of her hands, seeing as how she was currently pushing his chair right up next to Tina's. Behind her, Mike and Matt were pushing a nearby table up to the end of theirs, with Brittany trailing behind, awkwardly trying to carry two chairs over.

When they finally get themselves situated, Santana grandly declares that they may all proceed with their orders now, and it's the glint in her eye and the genuine friendliness of the other three that make them all laugh along with her. He can't help it – he feels a little guilty for not inviting them in the first place. Especially Mike, who had been so kind to him, and particularly to Tina, over the past few months. But none of them seem all that upset and he's just happy they're here now. The last members of the little family they've made for themselves.

Because that's really what they'd become – a family. Even if they didn't like each other sometimes (he didn't think Santana and Rachel would ever be best friends or anything close to it), they would still always be there for each other. Just yesterday, Santana had viciously humiliated some jock in the middle of the hallway who had dared to make fun of one of Rachel's animal sweaters. Of course, as soon as they were in the safety of the rehearsal room, Santana herself had went on to mock the very same sweater. But there was a fondness in her voice now, like she wouldn't quite know what to do with herself if Rachel ever actually stopped wearing the atrocities.

He watches as Mike held a protective arm around Brittany, just as Matt held one around Santana, the word around school being that each pair was dating. But every single person there knew that the girls were actually holding each other's hands under the table. No one said anything and no one gave them a second glance. It was just something that was accepted in their little group and no one questioned it or asked Mike or Matt why they went along with the charade. They all already knew the answer – each boy simply loved the girl enough to let them be. They loved them enough to want to make sure they were safe in their embrace. Safe to be with each other without fear of ridicule or gossip. So they went along with it. Because they loved them and because they were family.

He watches Rachel tell a grateful Quinn that her dads have invited her to stay with them for a while. No one is surprised that Noah's mother doesn't really want her son's girlfriend staying with them permanently, and really, that's probably not the best thing for their fledgling relationship anyway. They sort of remind him of Tina and himself in a way. They started something messy almost a year ago and were only just now getting around to doing things right.

(And they didn't know it then, but the very next day, Shelby would invite Quinn and Noah to come see little Bethy. Finn would tag along, because even though it was all a lie, that baby girl would always be a little bit his, too. And Rachel would go, insisting it was just for moral support, but they all knew it was really for her sake, as well.)

He watches Tina and Mercedes giggle over some blonde guy sitting a few tables over with his family. Watches as Mercedes holds herself straighter and her head a little higher and actually smiles at the boy and even waves him over when he keeps catching her eye.

His name's Sam and he's starting at McKinley next year. And yes, he can sing.

He watches Kurt drop his head on to Finn's shoulder at the end of the night, yawning and dramatically telling him that he'd have to be carried home at this rate. They'd literally found brothers in this club.

He watches Matt break the news to the group that he's moving over the summer, and the whole table is silent for a few seconds, trying to imagine what their group will look like one member short. Santana doesn't even try to hide the wetness in her eyes. She doesn't have to. Not with them.

And because Breadstix is literally The Only Restaurant in Lima, he's not surprised at all when Santana calls out to Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury across the room. They only talk amongst themselves for a couple minutes before pulling their own chairs up to their ever-growing table. It's a celebration, he tells them. Of a fantastic first year and of many more to come. It's also a goodbye to one of their own, and the way he wraps an arm around Matt makes Artie's throat tighten a little.

But then Tina's hand finds his and he feels a warmth spreading through him. Of all the things they've managed to accomplish this year as a group, he thinks the two of them have accomplished quite a bit on their own. They've both grown up and tried to fix themselves. They've fallen in love and been broken-hearted. They've been best friends and they've been lovers and they've been everything in between. But most of all, they've just been Artie and Tina, leaving behind Wheelchair Kid and Goth Girl.

She sleeps over that night, for the first time since they started from scratch. He wraps his arms around her, her back resting against his chest, and he times his breathing to hers. Watches her twist her fingers in his, kiss them each one by one. Listens to the contented humming sound she makes in her throat.

They don't make love that night, but that's okay. He knows they will when it's right for them. He tries to stay awake as long as possible, just basking in this perfect, peaceful moment of theirs. Breathing her in. Trying to memorize everything about it. The way her skin feels against his hands. The way her body fits against his like some kind of missing puzzle piece. The way her hair smells like lavender and her skin smells like vanilla or cinnamon or something like that. The way her feet snuggle against his, even though he can never play footsie with her.

The way she says his name in her sleep.

The first time she tells him she loves him, she thinks he's sleeping.

The first time he tells her he loves her, it's the next morning, and he makes sure she's listening.

The first time she says "always" instead, he thinks he likes it better than "I love you."

They still say "I love you," but they say "always" for the rest of their lives.

The End.


End file.
